


The Abyss Has Dimension

by analogoose



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 01, a lil dark n twisty, also carjacker camila, and ava's funky lil milkshake slurping demon, avatrice endgame, ft. freaky dream sequences, lots of broody introspection, lots of feelings, unreliable narrator ava
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analogoose/pseuds/analogoose
Summary: The Halo has always been sentient. Ava has felt it before, in misplaced bouts of irritation and hot flashes of anger that weren’t quite hers. But the first time it talks back to her, she phases through an armchair in the first-floor lobby of a dingy motel.Or: Ava tries her absolute hardest to not be a burden on her sisters, consequences be damned.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 102
Kudos: 295





	1. i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is this, you ask? i have no idea. something a lil weird and crazy, but hopefully good. enjoy!

**part i  
** _the wound opens wide._  
_one abyss will lead to another._  
_\- Mahmoud Darwish_

It’s routine at this point.

Wait until everyone is asleep. Quietly, tiptoe across the room, open the door exactly forty-five degrees—enough to slip through—otherwise the hinges will make an ungodly sound, something akin to a banshee. From there, it’s _easy money,_ all she has to do is close the door quickly and silently. 

After that, Ava is free to do as she wishes.

Some nights, she sneaks out onto the roof of their dingy motel. It took some trial and error before she was able to heave herself up from the second story walkway. Once, her hands had accidentally gripped onto a loose shingle and she almost fell onto the car parked below. 

Key word: _almost._

Which is to say, she would have left that car with a notable, Ava-sized dent had it not been for the Halo. The glowing ring of metal embedded in her spine that had broke her fall, making her _levitate_ three inches above the hood of that car (before she promptly landed with a small, yet uncomfortable thud). The stolen relic of Adriel’s that had been behaving more and more strangely ever since the events of the Vatican. 

The sound of tires rolling against smooth gravel cuts across the quiet of the night as bright whites illuminate Ava. She brings up a hand to shield her eyes before the car turns around the corner and she’s back into the cover of the night. Ava lets her hand fall back to her side and continues walking. 

Her steps echo with tiny splashes of water as she strolls on the side of the road. She’s careful to avoid the big puddles, but every once in a while, she’ll have the unfortunate luck of stepping into one. _It’s fucking dark, alright?_

The motel was too _constricting._ Ava could feel the walls closing in on her, the longer she spent in that cramped little room with four other people. Nights like these were a welcome reprieve from the all-too-heavy confinement. After spending much of her life stuck in a bed where she saw the same four walls day in and day out, she relishes every opportunity she can get to explore.

Which leads her to ambling on the side of the road after an unusually heavy rainfall. She breathes in the heavy scent of petrichor mixed with gasoline. It fills her with a sense of tranquility. Her chest rises more and more slowly as her breaths become deeper. 

It’s _nice._ Calming, even.

A pulse of warmth spreads from her spine to the rest of the body, as if the Halo, too, agrees with her sentiments. 

The first time that had happened, Ava thought it was a trick of her imagination, but the second time, she very distinctly felt a small burst of heat from the Halo, and boy, was that fucking weird. 

Her mind had immediately jumped to the idea that the Halo might have been overheating or something—can it even do that?—but after waiting for an hour in anticipation of the ring of metal to spontaneously combust, Ava concluded that whatever had happened probably wasn’t a warning sign and just another thing to put on her list of _Weird Shit the Halo Does._

A distinct scent of fried food wafts across her nose and Ava stops in her tracks. 

_There,_ twenty feet away from her is a late-night food truck. She searches her pockets before realizing that she left her money in their room. Her mouth pulls at a frown as she quietly continues walking, getting closer and closer to the source of the tantalizing smell. 

There’s a few people standing by it, mostly drunk adults scarfing down arancinis. Her eyes jump from each individual before stopping at the man dressed in a red leather jacket. She shivers. An eerie coldness immediately washes over her, the air becoming heavier with the weight of an unseen presence. 

Ava stumbles back, chest seizing in fear. Her back tightens in response and one hand immediately goes for the Divinium knife stored in the inside of her jacket as she squints, looking for the familiar cloud of red that always accompanies the intrusive, heavy feeling. 

Her eyes frantically dart around, searching for a wispy trail, but there’s _nothing._

Ava’s heart stutters painfully in its cage. With great difficulty she forces her hand to unclench the handle of the knife. 

When she pulls her hand away, it trembles. She quickly fists it inside the pocket of her jacket. Her chest feels heavy and the heat of the Halo sears across her spine. She forces herself to calm down, taking a deep breath, then another, and then one more, just for good measure. 

She risks another glance at the man, just to make sure, before turning back around.

She’s had enough for tonight.

-

_Glass shatters everywhere around her._

_People are frantically screaming, pushing past her, tables are being haphazardly thrown down as others duck to find cover._

_Ava hears it before she sees it. A loud round reverberates in the back of her skull and purely out of reflex, she pushes Lilith aside with all of her strength as she feels the heat of the bullet graze past her. There’s a crash somewhere, ceramic clanging as it falls on the ground, smoke permeating through the air as it burns her lungs._

_Her face feels wet. She reaches up to wipe at her face, hand coming away stained with red. Her stomach curdles as she realizes where exactly that stray bullet had gone. It takes all of her willpower to not look over the counter for fear of knowing exactly what she would find._

_Ava’s eyes frantically dart all over the cafe—or what remains of it—as she tries to locate Mary and Lilith in all the pandemonium. The screams still haven’t stopped. Wide frantic eyes meet two pairs of steady ones as she catches them ducked under a stray table, seeking cover and the tightness in her chest loosens._

_She starts to get up, intent on making her way over there, when more bullets pierce through the cafe. Ava immediately falls to her knees, hands over her ears as she tries to block out all of the sound. Distantly, she hears the call of her name, but her senses are disoriented. She curls up on the ground, rocking forward on her knees, head touching the cool ground as she tries to calm herself, lungs heaving through the smell of ash and gunpowder._

_The rustic, hardwood floor that she was admiring when she first stepped inside is now covered in crimson. A nauseous feeling bubbles in the back of her throat._

_No._

_She has to get out of this._

_Maybe… Maybe she can phase her way to where Mary and Lilith are._

_That’s it. It’s a good plan._

_Ava tries to channel the Halo’s energy, it pulses once before going quiet. “Fuck!” Her fist slams into the ground in frustration. She looks back up at their table only to find Mary slowly getting up from her position in an attempt to make her way over to where Ava is._

_She wants to scream, cry out, shout that it’s a bad idea, but her voice is stuck in her throat and she can only watch helplessly as a slug tears through Mary’s shoulder._

_“Mary!” Anguish bleeds through her voice, finally cutting through whatever was blocking it as Ava helplessly watches her fall on the ground._

_“We can stop this,” It whispers. The voice is sharp, slicing through the haze in her mind._

_What?_

_Ava’s head swivels, trying to locate the source of the voice. She finds her gaze caught by a mother holding her screaming child as she tries to calm them both._

_“We can help them,” It says, louder this time._

_“Who are you?”_

_She feels her back pulse again. Her eyes catch a broken shard from a mirror. With shaky hands, she grabs it, holding it up to examine her reflection. Her face is streaked with blood, shirt torn in multiple places. But what’s most surprising in the bright glow emanating from her back._

_One hand reaches back to touch the Halo only to quickly pull back from the intense heat that permeates through the layer of fabric. “Holy shit,” she breathes out and drops the shard back on the ground._

_Ava head turns back to the windows only to find the mother and child gone. “What—” She spins around to find Mary and Lilith, but they’re nowhere to be seen either. Slowly, people start to fade from the cafe, the blood on the ground erasing itself, broken shards of glass turning to dust one by one._

_“What’s going on?” Ava rasps, voice hoarse._

_“Wake.”_

She phases through the armchair, eyes snapping open right before she hits the ground. A low keening sound escapes from the back of her throat as Ava slowly crawls away. Her muscles ache as she slowly pulls herself up, chest heaving as she tries to suck in every breath she can, heart pounding away at the bars of her ribs. 

It was just a nightmare. A really _fucked up_ nightmare. 

Her hands swipe at her face, only to come away wet. “Oh,” she breathes out, staring at her hand.

“You know, you have a room,” a low voice drawls.

She jumps, neck snapping back to locate its source who stands behind the front desk, face unamused. 

She scrubs at her face, wiping away any evidence of her tears before turning to make uncomfortable eye-contact with the owner of the motel. Ava tenses, bracing herself for a barrage of questions after her very _unusual_ show of falling through a piece of furniture.

The man studies her over the rim of his Coke-bottle glasses before turning back to his computer monitor, mouse clicking incessantly. “Coffee machine is fixed now,” he grumbles.

Her shoulders relax. “Thank you,” Ava croaks. She quietly leaves the lobby in favor of searching for the tiny breakfast nook tucked into a corner of the floor. 

She doesn’t remember what time she came back last night but she guesses that it must have been late enough that there was no point in going back up to their room, lest she accidentally wake someone up. 

She rubs her eyes and checks the clock on the wall. 

7 a.m.

They would all be down soon, if they weren’t already. 

The automatic coffee machine is now humming with life. Ava grabs a styrofoam cup setting it on the drip tray. Her hand hovers over the options. She presses down on the button that says espresso and watches as the machine gurgles for a couple of minutes before churning out a slow stream of liquid that pours out into the cup. 

When the bitter scent of coffee first hits her nostrils, her hand immediately pulls back as if she’s been burned. Bile rises in the back of her throat as the memory of rustic hardwood is shoved to the forefront of her mind. The mingled scent of coffee beans and gunpowder settles on her taste buds like an unwelcome visitor. 

“If I didn’t have any doubts about your brain functioning properly before, I certainly do now. If you stare at that machine any longer, we might have to take you to a doctor,” Lilith taunts.

Ava doesn’t register the words, brain too busy cycling itself, trying to prevent her from erupting into a full-blown panic attack. With a shaky breath, Ava throws the cup into the trash and takes a step back from the machine. 

“You’re down here early today.” Mary comments. 

“I—” Her voice comes out garbled and she immediately stops talking. Mary’s eyes narrow, she opens her mouth to speak, but Ava beats her to it. “I was hungry,” she lies. 

She stares at Ava for a beat before nodding. “We’re planning on going into town to stock up on supplies. We can grab something to eat then.” 

Ava mumbles a quiet affirmative. Her eyes dart around the room, unfocused, as she searches for something to do when a soft touch on her elbow breaks her out of her thoughts. 

Beatrice presses a small styrofoam cup into her hand, warmth emanating from its walls. “The tea is better,” she says, casting a meaningful glance at the trash where Ava’s untouched coffee lay. 

“Yeah, the coffee is shit.” Mary responds, mouth grimacing at the taste. 

“Language,” Lilith reflexively calls out, shooting her a look. 

A smile pulls at the corner of Ava’s mouth as she observes the team. She brings the cup closer to her face and inhales deeply, letting the sweet scent of chamomile wash out the smell of sulfur and dark roast. She gives Beatrice a grateful smile.

_It was just a nightmare._

She takes a sip of the tea to distract herself from the spiraling thoughts. The warmth travels down her esophagus before settling in her stomach. Her heart has yet to cease its struggling, but the weight in her chest feels less heavy now. Beatrice still hasn’t moved away so Ava takes this opportunity and lets herself lean against her shoulder, grounding herself. 

_But what if it’s real?_

The question ricochets around her skull like a stray bullet. 

-

Early afternoon finds them strolling through the town square. It’s a quaint place, reminding Ava of the small town Mary had taken her to before everything had gone to shit. 

After the events of the Vatican, they had been all but forced to go off the grid. Mother Superion had yet to get in contact with them so going back to the Cat’s Cradle had been out of the question lest they walk in to something they were completely unprepared to deal with. This had led to two weeks of bumbling from town to town as they tried to find a suitable place to settle. 

This was one of their finer stops. It was a nice town, and small enough to offer them the anonymity they needed. Even while the other sisters had traded their nun attire for something less distinct long ago, that didn’t stop the stares, even if they were more out of curiosity than suspicion. 

These towns were small enough that they probably weren’t used to receiving strangers, especially five women who looked like they had lost a fight with a trash compactor. 

A soft breeze passes through and Ava closes her eyes for a minute, basking in the warm light. 

“Camila and I can restock toiletries while you all look for food?” Beatrice asks. If they divvy up the tasks, they’ll finish faster.

“And hopefully some better coffee,” Lilith grumbles. 

Mary nods. “Let’s meet back here in about an hour.” 

She watches as Beatrice and Camila break away from the group to head off in a different direction, eyes following them until they turn around a corner, disappearing from view. Ava turns away, following Mary and Lilith as they walk in companionable silence, passing by shops and tiny stalls selling various trinkets. 

“You’re quiet today, Baby H.” Mary notes.

Ava gives a half-hearted shrug before her lips slide up into a teasing grin. “Are you guys missing the sound of my _angelic_ voice?”

Mary rolls her eyes in response as she surveys a small establishment from the windows before pulling its door open and leading them inside. 

Lilith snorts. “I would rather slice my ears off.” 

Ava’s about to shoot back a retort when she catches sight of a very distinct rustic hardwood that her feet are currently standing on, and the reply dies in her throat. 

_No no no, this can’t be happening. It isn’t supposed to be real._

“What are we doing here?” She weakly asks.

Lilith squints at her. “This place sells food and coffee. The two things that we literally set out for.” 

“No, I—” Her ribcage rattles as she forces herself to breathe. “We just passed by a cafe one block ago.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Mary shrugs. “So what do you want?” She asks, reading the menu on the wall behind the counter as they stand in line. 

Ava’s eyes dart around the cafe, taking in everyone that’s here. _Get out,_ she wants to scream. The Halo pulses in warning and this time, instead of just pushing Lilith away, Ava grabs them both by the backs of their shirts and shoves them down into the ground. 

“What the f—”

The windows shatter, stray shards of glass hitting their backs as bullets whiz past them. 

The back of her arm stings and she releases a sigh of relief when she sees the barista behind the counter scrambling on the ground towards the backroom. 

Her head moves back and forth as she catalogues where everyone is, trying to place the similarities between this and her nightmare— _vision._ The sounds and smells are coming back full force as chaos erupts around her.

Her lungs breathe in the sharp smell of gunpowder and iron and Ava gags. Distantly, she hears her name shouted, just like last time. Reflexively, she looks to the spot where Mary and Lilith were taking cover last time. 

Panic seizes her chest. 

They’re not there. Instead, the mother and her child are crouched under that back table. Her eyes widen and she quickly scrambles up, ignoring Mary and Lilith’s distant warnings screaming at her to stay down. She knows what’s going to happen next. She has to save them.

Ava trips on something, stumbling slightly as her arms come up to cover her head while bullets zip past her. She makes the mistake of looking down and almost throws up on the spot. 

It’s a body.

There’s loud crashing everywhere as people run around screaming. The sound of automatic weaponry continues its assault as bullets pierce the air. She tears her gaze away from the crimson pooling on the ground and steps over the body, continuing to make her way to the mother and her child. 

She’s getting closer and closer when she sees the kid start to struggle against his mother’s grasp.

It happens in slow-motion.

A stray piece of debris flies at them, the mother lets go of her child to cover her face, and the kid takes that moment to pull away from her grasp and run. 

A strangled cry breaks from her throat. _She’s not going to make it in time._

Against all instinct screaming at her not to do the dumbest thing she’s ever thought of, Ava stands up and breaks into a run. The Halo pulses wildly in her back, the distant hum of its energy echoing in her ears. 

She grabs the kid’s arm and shoves him back just as a bullet tears through her side. She cries out, but keeps going. Another sharp pain spreads across her shoulder just as she crashes over the last couple of feet and pulls the mother down too.

“You’re okay,” she breathes out, arms coming to wrap around as a shield. It’s okay, you’re okay,” she repeats, huddled over them as chaos echoes all around. 

-

Consciousness lays claim to her in the soft featherlight touches that ghost across her temple before disappearing past her hairline and burying themselves into her hair.

Ava lets out a small groan as she stretches her arms. The soft touches immediately stutter to a pause before resuming again. She waits a minute, trying to place her surroundings. She’s laying on something soft, a bed maybe, there’s some hushed murmuring, a tv playing in the background? Ava forces her eyes open, blinking bearily as they adjust to the light. 

“How are you feeling?” Beatrice asks, voice low and mindful of Ava’s sensitivity to sound as she wakes up. 

Ava looks up, meeting her concerned gaze. “Like I just got shot at,” she croaks, voice raspy from disuse. 

Lilith snorts. “Good to know your sense of humor is still intact.” She picks up a small cup, the sound of metal clinging together as she shakes it before setting it on the bedside table. “You took three bullets, luckily they weren’t made from Divinium.”

Ava pulls herself up on the bed with help from Beatrice, staring at the dark bullets streaked with dried blood.

Camila wordlessly hands her a small glass of water. Ava murmurs a quiet thank you and drains the glass in one go before quietly setting the glass on the table. She catches sight of her hands, devoid of any blood, then down at her clothes. Gone were the jeans and crew neck, instead she was dressed in soft Spiderman pajamas. 

“We had to cut through your clothes to remove the bullets.” Mary clarifies. 

Ava tugs at the shirt. “You picked these?” Mary only raises an eyebrow in response, challenging her. Ava lets out a low whistle, “Shotgun Mary’s got style,” she jokes. 

“Damn right I do,” Mary huffs, a smile playing at her lips. 

Lilith studies her for a moment, arm crossed, gaze piercing before turning back to TV, the news giving reports of the shooting at the cafe they were just at, earlier in the day. “You saved them,” she quietly points out. “The mother and the child.” 

The tension bleeds out of her body and Ava sags, relieved that they hadn’t gotten hurt. 

“How did you know they would have gotten hurt?” Lilith’s brow is furrowed. 

The other Sister Warriors look between the two of them, confusion etched across their features.

Ava’s heart drops. She can’t tell them right now, not when she doesn’t even know what’s happening to her. She couldn’t very well tell them that the Halo now pulsed in Morse code every once in a while and a disembodied voice had reached out to her in her sleep this morning. “What do you mean?” She asks, trying to buy herself more time, wracking her brain for a decent explanation that doesn’t make her sound like she needs to be checked into a facility. 

“You were already running to them before the child tried to slip away.” 

“I—”

“—They’re talking about the shooting.” Camila cuts her off, eyes wide as she stares at the TV. 

Mary picks up the remote and turns up the volume as they all lean in, intently holding onto the anchor’s every word as he reports on today’s shooting. Ava isn’t fluent in Italian, but she’s able to glean bits and pieces from the little she does understand. 

There’s 7 dead and at least 12 injured. The cafe is completely destroyed beyond repair. Police are following up on an anonymous tip as they try to locate the rest of the shooters. There’s rumored to have been at least three of them, but they’ve only caught one. 

The news channel throws up a picture of the shooter that’s now in custody and Ava’s breath catches in her throat. It was the man from last night, the one with the red leather jacket. A realization settles deep in her gut, heavy like stone. 

Her stomach rolls. 

Ava quickly pushes past Mary and Lilith, ignoring everyone’s rising concerns as she slams open the bathroom door, knees hitting tile rather loudly and painfully, and empties the meager contents of her stomach. 

There’s footsteps behind her before someone gathers her hair and holds it while softly rubbing her back. She retches once, then twice, hugging the toilet bowl as her breaths come in loud gasps. She pulls back and Beatrice lets go of her hair, rolling back on her toes to give Ava some space.

Nobody says anything, but Ava can feel four pairs of eyes peering over at her in concern.

She leans her head on the back of the vanity, resting her head against cool granite as she tries to calm her racing heart. “I saw—” she sucks in a breath, pausing, as she thinks on how to best phrase this without letting slip of her late night escapade. “—The guy, I’ve seen him before. He didn’t look—I didn’t see a Wraith.” 

“Not all acts of violence are products of Wraiths.” Beatrice’s voice is gentle, but firm. She has an inkling of the hole Ava is spiraling into. She’s all too familiar with a different kind of violence, one operates between the lines, veiled in sharpness and secrecy, outside of the influence of Wraiths. 

“But it doesn’t make sense! Why—” Ava weakly shakes her head. She wants to yell, scream at them that _just because she didn’t see a Wraith, doesn’t mean she didn’t feel it._

_That there was one, but this time, without any trails of red, just a cold otherworldly presence that didn’t belong._

If they weren’t going to throw her into a mental asylum before, they surely would now, concluding that she probably took too many hits to the head in Rome. 

Ava sighs. “I think I’m going to take a shower.”

The others look like they want to protest, but one look from Beatrice has them quietly ushering themselves away from the bathroom. Ava swallows tightly, grateful for the space. A part of her wants to push past the distance between them, bury herself in Beatrice’s arms and let go, god knows she’s done it before, but she can’t afford to have a breakdown. Not now.

Beatrice stops at the threshold, casting Ava one last look before quietly shutting the door behind her. 

-

_She’s in their hotel room, except it’s empty, completely devoid of their belongings. It’s dark, but the moonlight filtering in from the window provides her with enough light to make note of everything around her. Her team is nowhere to be seen. The beds are neatly made, with the entire room seeming as if it hasn’t even been touched, almost looking more clean than it was when they had first stepped in._

_Ava steps towards the large mirror hanging next to the TV, examining her reflection. She taps at the glass, silently testing her surroundings._

_She releases a small sigh. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, but there’s a weird feeling niggling at the back of her brain that something is not quite right._

_She tips her head to the side and her reflection mimics her movement with her._

_“We saved them,” her reflection says._

_Ava immediately jumps back, but her reflection doesn’t move with her this time. “What the fuck,” she whispers. She quickly backs away, the back of her knees hitting the edge of the bed._

_“But we could have done more,” it continues._

_“Fuck fuck fuck. Wake the fuck up, Ava, this is just a dream.” Her eyes dart around the room searching for an exit, but the door seems to have disappeared. “Just a dream.”_

_Her reflection moves closer. “You know it. You feel it.” The words are monotone, disembodied, sounding out of place in her reflection’s mouth._

_“Get UP!” She screams._

Ava wakes in a cold sweat. Her shirt is drenched, her hands come up slippery and shaking. She glances at the figure beside her, trying to muffle her noises of distress. She’s sharing a bed with Camila this time, who is out like a light, completely unaware of Ava’s nightmare.

Ava quickly looks around the room, making sure everyone else is asleep as well before carefully extricating herself from the covers. She quietly pads across the room, slipping on her shoes. She makes sure to grab the spare key before softly shutting the door behind her. 

The cool nighttime air doesn’t bring her the same sense of tranquility as it used to. Ava spends a moment just standing outside their room, gripping the balcony railing with white knuckles as she forces her lungs to work properly. 

After she’s gathered enough of her bearings, Ava carefully walks down the stairs, quickly jogging across the parking lot as she makes a beeline for the main building. She’s not in the mood to leave the property today, but she’s sure she won’t be getting any more sleep tonight. She’s not sure that she _could,_ even if she wanted to. 

Not after that.

The desk isn’t empty when she tumbles past the doors. The man from this morning takes one look at her disheveled state before going back to his computer monitor, keyboard clacking loudly, probably making a Google search for the nearest mental asylum. 

Don’t worry creepy motel manager, she would do the same, too.

Ava tries her best to ignore him as she grabs the TV remote and settles herself into one of the lobby couches. She mindlessly flips through the channels before settling onto a documentary about a wine farm. 

She’s not sure how long she stays there, the documentary isn’t even that interesting, but it does its job of occupying her attention. She hears footsteps getting louder and louder, from her peripheral, she sees the man approaching. He stops right in front of her, blocking the TV, as he silently studies her for a minute. 

She bites her lip, pushing back a snarky retort that lies on the edge of her tongue.

The man takes out a small bottle from his pocket, pills rattling inside as he sets it down on the coffee table in front of Ava. _“Medicina,”_ he casts her a meaningful look. “For better sleep,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” Ava grabs the bottle of pills. “Thanks,” she whispers, eyes burning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> officially dipping my toes into the canon-verse.
> 
> tbh i have absolutely no idea where this is going, i am truly Flying Blind on this one. Nevertheless, i hope u will enjoy this as much as me, bc this one is gonna be crazy, i can feel it.
> 
> let me know what u guys think of this weirdness in the comments down below, i would love to hear from u!
> 
> alternatively, if u think i've committed any crimes, come find me on tumblr @analogoose.
> 
> see u all soon!


	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The answer comes to her much like how a bird flies into a window; accidentally and without any warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u all for ur lovely comments and kudos last chapter! :') i love reading ur thoughts and ur enthusiasm fuels my enthusiasm! also big thanks to those on the discord who dissected that scene with all the names of the previous warrior nuns. didnt think i'd need it but all truly saved me from having to agonize over trying to pick the Right made-up name. 
> 
> hope u enjoy this one!

**part ii** **_  
_ ** _giant with power,_ __  
_heavy with blood_ _  
_ _\- Ada Limon_

Tires roll unsteadily against smooth gravel, punctuating the silence in the car with sharp staccatos of sound. The open road stretches out before them, devoid of traffic as they leave the decimation of the coffee shop behind. Ava leans her head against the window with sharp stabs of pain pounding against her temples, whether they be from the rattling window, the lack of sleep, the weird-ass dreams, or all of the above, it doesn’t matter. The end result is still the same. 

Brain meet pudding cup. Except this cup was made of something more eco-friendly than plastic—small miracles, nothing to brag about really, just your run-of-the-mill human bone that was shaped into a hollow skull to hold her brain that was slowly becoming a liquified mess with each passing day. 

There’s a small crackle of static before the radio switches from playing Italian pop to something a little more mellow. Soft, heavy beats fill the atmosphere with a sense of tranquility. Ava lets a ghost of a smile slip as she observes Camila in the passenger seat, bobbing her head to the music while studying her phone intently. She catches Mary’s eyes in the rearview mirror and the older woman returns her smile before turning her attention back to the road. Beatrice’s arm brushes against her elbow as she turns a page in her book. On the other side of her, Lilith rests with arms crossed, eyes closed, and head leaned back against the headrest. 

She silently studies her sisters, each one wearing the weight of recent events differently. Mary’s tell is concentrated in the clench of her jaw and tight knuckles around the steering wheel. Camila’s holds it in the rhythmic up and down of her leg and her heel makes rapid light taps on the floorboard of the car. Lilith wears it draped across her shoulders, like an imaginary cape fluttering behind her. Sometimes the cape would become too heavy, and Lilith’s shoulders would hunch for a minute before straightening themselves back out, posture rigid and stone-like, as if she moved even an inch, it would topple, bringing her down with it.

And Beatrice, she was the hardest of them all. It clings to her almost like a second skin, making it hard to distinguish where it ended and Beatrice began. For all her time spent observing at the orphanage, Ava could never get enough practice when it came to Beatrice. The Sister Warrior didn’t _have_ any tells, and maybe, that was a tell in itself. 

Correction: Beatrice _did_ have tells, it was just taking Ava some time to figure them out.

Camila lets out a quiet groan and the whole car comes to attention. Lilith’s eyes immediately snap open, Mary gives a quick glance beside her, and Beatrice pauses her reading to look up at the younger woman. 

None of them even think twice about it. There is no delayed reaction, it happens instantaneously, each of their actions defined by their love and care for the younger sister. There’s a sharp burn of anger in her chest, maybe jealousy too, for never having something like this before. But she has it _now—_ does she?—and the feeling slowly ebbs away, retreating back. To where? She doesn’t know.

Camila thrusts her phone back, showing a bright screen illuminated with the image of a chessboard. “I’m stuck,” she sighs. 

Mary’s mouth curves into a half-smile. “Got too trigger-happy with the pieces, Cam?” She teases.

Beatrice’s brows imperceptibly draw closer together—ah, _there’s_ a tell. It’s a common expression she makes, especially when she’s trying to concentrate on something. Ava is usually able to tell how challenging a situation or problem is by the degree of how drawn together Beatrice’s eyebrows are—as she studies the board. 

“How about bishop to E3?” Lilith suggests.

Beatrice shakes her head. “Opponent’s knight is currently blocked by one of their own pieces. If she eliminates it, it will fork her king and rook.”

Ava doesn’t care much for the game, but her curiosity is heightened when she sees Beatrice’s eyebrows draw even closer. She leans in for a look at the board. At first glance, it looks like a mess to her eyes, but training kicks in as she starts to identify each piece and the move associated with it as information comes back to her like muscle memory. 

The answer comes to her much like how a bird flies into a window; accidentally and without any warning.

“How about pawn to G5?” Ava quietly calls out.

The car goes absolutely silent as all three girls play out Ava’s suggestion in their heads. “That’s...actually a good idea,” Beatrice finally says. “It would check white’s king, then she could move the bishop in position for another attack, while buying time to strengthen her defense.” 

Lilith’s expression is one of poorly-concealed shock. “When were you so good at chess?” she asks. 

Ava gives a one-shoulder shrug. “I used to play it at the orphanage.” Her heart echoes with a pang as memories of stubby fingers moving little plastic pieces surface to the front of her mind. 

“With who?” Lilith sounds surprised, no doubt trying to think of who would have a high enough tolerance to endure Ava and the challenges she came with, patiently navigating pieces across the board for her, taking time to teach her strategy. 

Ava refrains from snorting out loud at the hilarity of it all. “With my roommate,” she replies. 

The truth was, she was actually shit at chess. Diego was the one who had taught her, setting his board on the table next to Ava’s bed as he softly explained what each of the pieces could do, before asking her if she would like to play. Their first game together was a clusterfuck, leaving Ava frustrated that he couldn’t follow directions on how to move her pieces and Diego almost on the verge of tears because Ava’s directions never seemed to be clear enough. He spent the rest of the day on the orphanage’s computer, probably playing against the computer who was a much better opponent than Ava.

The next day, he came up to her, clutching his board and a blank piece of paper with determination. He drew out the sixty-four squares, before assigning each of them a letter and number. Turns out, he didn’t spend yesterday abandoning Ava in favor of the computer, he had actually spent it researching chess notation so that he could teach it to her. 

The accident had left Ava unable to feel any sensation in her body, but in that moment, she swore she felt a distinct burst of warmth in her chest at the mere thought of the boy taking time out of his day to patiently teach Ava, instead of just playing against the computer which was probably a lot less frustrating than she was. 

Of course, while she may have learned chess notation, that had no impact on her ability to strategize. She had a habit of jumping headfirst into everything without thinking of the consequences. And as a result, she always ended up sacrificing her most important pieces early in the game, leaving her with nothing but a pile of shit by the time Diego captured her king.

After that, Diego started to use the orphanage's computer to research different chess openings and strategies. He would bring his notes back to Ava and together they would run through moves, trying to ingrain them into her memory so that the next time they played, she would be less brash with her pieces.

So, she was still shit at chess, just less shitty than before. Solving’s Camila’s problem was something that was definitely _not_ in her skill level, but maybe some of Diego’s teachings had actually stuck in her brain. Yay for improvement. 

The van drifts to the right as Mary switches lanes in favor of taking the next exit. Sharp streaks of color passing alongside the car become identifiable objects as the vehicle decelerates. They trade out the endless expanse of the interstate for traffic lights and stop signs. It’s not long before Mary pulls them into a gas station, parking the van in front of the pump closest to the front. The engine idles for a minute before she cuts the ignition, the soft music immediately disappearing for the uncoordinated jolts of fuel dispensers as drivers pump gas. 

“This is the only stop we’ll be making. If you gotta use the bathroom, now’s the time to do it. If you’re hungry, now’s the time to get some food. After that, it’s a straight shot to Cassoca,” she says before getting out to fill up gas. 

Cassoca. That was the town they had decided upon yesterday. The previous town had already attracted too much attention with the shooting and if they didn’t want to run the risk of getting tracked, they had to leave as quickly as possible before the national police got involved, which led to deciding on a quaint Italian town further up north. 

It was Mary’s suggestion. Another town that was familiar to her, and apparently, a place she used to frequent before… Well, before everything went to shit. 

The bell jingles as Ava enters the convenience store. She glances around the store, finding Beatrice searching the drinks options while Lilith and Camile browse the snack aisles. Ava bypasses all of them and heads straight to the far left corner in favor of the bathroom. 

The door echoes shut behind her and Ava visibly sags, finally alone. She walks up to the sink, leaning her hands against the counter as she faces her reflection. 

She doesn’t look any different. 

There are bags under her eyes—as much as the Halo is good at healing, not even it can heal the kind of tiredness that lives in her bones these days—from the lack of sleep and maybe her cheeks have a little less color to them, but it’s not like she has magically sprouted horns from her head or anything—though the same can’t be said for Lilith, who she feels an ounce of sympathy for, but at least she can _see_ her change, at least there’s something tangible there. She feels so different, like something had changed inside of her, at a fundamental level. But the scariest part was that she didn’t know what had changed. 

Ava taps the mirror twice, for good measure, in case it’s another instance of a freaky not-reflection making an appearance, but everything seems to be in working order. Everything seems like it’s real. She’s never really had a dream come true—in the worst way possible—and then have a disembodied voice communicate with her in the most fucked up way possible, so she’s not quite sure for what the protocol is for something like this, but she figures she might as well start it off by checking any and all mirrors. 

Ava exits the bathroom, heading back outside. She’s not in the mood to buy anything right now. As soon as she gets back inside the car, Mary starts the engine and pulls them back out onto the open road. 

“Aren’t you hungry? You didn’t eat anything in the morning either,” Beatrice points out, eyes scanning Ava’s face with concern.

She’s really _not,_ but she’s notorious for having a big appetite so if she doesn’t pick something, the team will definitely get worried and that’s the last thing she wants. They don’t need to be worried about her. She’s not going to be a burden. Not this time. 

Ava selects the bag of chips, something that she can act like she’s mindlessly munching on without having to trouble herself with finishing the whole thing. She’s not sure if she could keep anything down right now, especially with yesterday’s events still fresh in her mind. 

They merge onto the freeway and the car starts to pick up speed, surroundings becoming a blur once again. It’s early evening now and they still have two more hours before they reach Cassoca. She needs something to pass the time. Something to keep her from tripping into that dark spiral that seems to be getting wider and wider lately. 

Her eyes distractedly roam around the car, taking in all the bags that lay haphazardly packed on the floor. “Do we still have the Warrior Nun journal?” Ava asks. Maybe, there’s something in there that talks about what’s happening to her. Maybe it has happened before. 

Beatrice studies her curiously. “We brought it with us, yes—”

“—Great!” Ava claps her hands enthusiastically. “Can I read it right now?” Lilith looks incredulous at the idea of Ava using something like a valuable historical text as some sort of road-trip storybook to kill time. 

Beatrice dips her head in acknowledgement. “Camila?” She softly calls out, “Can you please open the bag next to your feet?”

Camila dutifully opens the bag and fishes out the journal, handing it to Ava. She murmurs a small thank you to both of them, before settling back in her seat. 

Ava opens the book, reverently tracing her fingers over the names of all of the Warrior Nuns before her. She thumbs through the pages, scanning through the entries. A lot of them were written in languages that she was unfamiliar with, making it difficult for her to gather information without asking for help from the team. Oh well, she’ll just have to make do. She flips through a few more pages before settling on an entry written in English.

\- _Hilde Dotte -_

_[...] It has been behaving rather oddly this past few days..._

Oh, that looks promising. She continues reading.

_While I was training this afternoon, I attempted to phase through a wall and It simply would not let me. My mind could not push past whatever was preventing me, at best, I can describe it as a wall that was blocking me from accessing those abilities._

_I had thought that, perhaps, It was rejecting me, however, my back experienced no discomfort. I do not know what caused this, but for the rest of day I was left without my abilities. I was left human._

_Perhaps, this was His way of—_

Okay, nope. Not helpful anymore. She flips through a few more pages before finding another one that seems more helpful, this one in Spanish. 

_\- Marta Pavin -_

_[...] and its odd collection of abilities extended far beyond reality for even in my dreams I could feel its reach._

_Many times, I am confronted with a mirror in which I can see my own reflection. However, the reflection fails to move when I move. I can only categorize it as a product of the eccentricity of dreams, had it not been for the fact that every night, I would find myself standing in front of my reflection._

_Or, rather, my reflection standing in front of me._

Okay, that was...freaky and almost eerily similar to her own experience. She could work with this. Maybe. Or maybe not, considering as that’s where the entry ended and there was absolutely no mention of it again. Fuck. Okay, moving on. 

_[...] all consuming rage [...]_

_[...] Anger like no other [...]_

_[...] out of nowhere [...]_

The rest of the entries all mentioned anger or some unexpected flareup of emotion that channelled the Halo’s immense power, but not one of them talked about what it meant when _it showed you the future in your dreams._

At least, she thinks it was the Halo. She really didn’t want to think about the _other_ option that pointed to Adriel poking around in her head. 

Ava slams the book shut out of frustration. “Well, that was boring,” she comments flatly. 

Beatrice frowns. “Those are the experiences and life stories of all the Warrior Nuns before you. They aren’t meant to entertain,” she admonishes softly.

Coming from her, it feels like a slap in the face and Ava shrinks in her seat under Beatrice’s disappointed gaze. Fuck, there she goes again, saying wrong shit at the wrong time. “I know, I know. I didn’t mean it like that.” She shifts in her seat, “Uh, how long until we’re there?” She asks, desperate to change the subject. 

Mary glances at her through the rearview. “We’re forty-five minutes out,” she replies. 

Ava sighs, resuming her position against the window as she closes her eyes. She’s not going to sleep, but she can at least pretend like she is.

-

“Sorry, what?” 

“Were you even listening?” Lilith growls. 

Ava squints her eyes. Camila vehemently shakes her head from behind Lilith, urging Ava to not add more fuel to the fire that was slowly starting, a fire that she may or may not have instigated. It’s in her nature, right on the top of the list where it says ‘being a shit’, so… Sorry Cam, but she can’t help it. “Mmm… I stopped after you said something that sounded like ‘blah blah blah’” Ava airily responds, knowing exactly how this is going to go down. Really Lilith, when did you become so predictable?

Lilith leans in, nails digging into the edge of the table accompanied by the sharp sound of wood splintering and Ava tries to keep herself from visibly flinching at the sound. “This is serious! We don’t have time for you to be distracted.” Camila opens her mouth to say something but one look from Lilith has her effectively silenced. Ava looks to Beatrice whose attention isn’t even focused on the brewing conflict and instead, completely absorbed in studying the map of the town and _ouch_ that slightly hurts. She’s brought back to the present by the sound of Lilith’s voice steadily rising, “—We’re doing our best to salvage the situation after what you failed to accomplish at the Vatican.” She barks. “How did the Halo end up with _you,_ of all people, when you don’t even know how to use it—”

As far as Lilith’s comments go, this one was weak, especially when compared to her previous material, which at least, always twisted the knife somewhere. This one had barely stung _(sheesh Lil, trip really tire you out that much? Couldn’t even come up with an original for your favorite most-hated person?)_. And Sister Francis had certainly subjected Ava to much worse things, so she had built up quite a bit of resistance. 

Any other day, she would have brushed Lilith’s words off as nothing, yet, today, her barb burrowed itself into her skin, painfully wiggling its way inside. 

_Worthless._

Her back flares in that achingly familiar way and red-hot anger rises from somewhere deep within her and Ava has the sudden urge to push back _harder._ To make it _hurt._ She knows exactly where to hit to make it happen, it’s right there on the tip of her tongue. 

_Burden._

Her fists clench tight. There’s a certain satisfaction that would come with punching Lilith in her smug face, but no, that wouldn’t get the point across. She’s retaliated without the use of her limbs before and she will do it again. 

_Make her bleed._

The thought catches Ava off-guard, causing her to mentally lose her footing. That wasn’t—

A fresh wave of guilt rises up and the anger is gone as quick as it came. There’s voices talking to Lilith, or maybe her—she can’t focus, too busy grappling with the whiplash of emotions she had just experienced. Her stomach rolls and she’s unable to keep the nausea from rising up, not when the familiar scent of iron assaults her senses, almost like she can taste it. Her vision tunnels, rustic hardwood, a push, wet splatter across her face—

Beatrice’s steady voice cuts through the haze, “—Ava will accompany me. We’ll make a brief stop at the market.” 

Ava blinks, senses realigning themselves with the present again. She catches Mary giving her a long look and quickly looks away, not wanting to be a subject of scrutiny. She has never quite appreciated being under a microscope, then again, has anyone? She winks at Camila, noticing Mary’s eyes still watching her, and the other girl gives an apologetic smile at being unable to do anything about Lilith.

Shortly after the meeting concludes, the team disperses, each person off to complete their assigned task before nightfall. Ava dutifully slides an empty backpack over her shoulder before following Beatrice out.

The walk to the market is a quick one. Mary’s safehouse was positioned in the center of town with constant foot traffic outside of it. In any other location, it would be a cause for concern, but the townspeople knew Mary—and by extension, her sisters—well enough, that they didn’t even bat an eye at the random five women that had arrived without warning. 

When they get there, Ava realizes that the market isn’t actually a place, so much as a _street._ The road is lined with stalls that sell everything from fruits and vegetables to full-blown meals. Her mouth waters as the smell of food hits her nose. There’s a row rumble in her stomach. She’s _finally_ hungry. 

It’s early evening so there shouldn’t be that many people around, and yet, the street is considerably busy, especially with people stopping by to grab quick bites of food on their way home or others just out for a quick stroll who fancied a quick snack. 

Right now, Camila is probably in the tiny living room, settling up their tech while pouring over books for research. Mary might be conversing with some of the locals, catching up with them while also trying to get any updates about the town since she last visited. Lilith is probably out checking the town and its perimeter for any unusual activity, making sure nothing followed them after their unplanned, and rather hasty escape. And Beatrice, who is right next to her, studying a papaya like she’s about to take an exam on it. Four powerful women, moving from place to place with ducked heads and nowhere to belong. And Ava is no stranger to that feeling, she was intimately familiar with it, some might even say it was her best friend, the yin to her yang, the sun to her moon, the—okay, so maybe she’s exaggerating now, but it doesn’t change that it was, in fact, branded as the ‘Ava Special.’

“Beatrice, what are we doing?” She asks. At Beatrice’s puzzled glance, Ava gestures to the town they’re standing in, “I thought running was my thing,” she quips, eyebrows rising in challenge. Ever since she had gotten the use of her legs back, she had never stopped running. It was _freeing._ It was everything. It was _her._ Hence: the ‘Ava Special.’

Beatrice’s mouth tightens into a line, a glimpse of how much she disagrees with the path they’re on, but can’t do anything else except move forward. And for maybe the first time in her life, Ava shares her sentiment. Don’t get her wrong, she still wants to run, but this time, she was to run _at_ the problem. “We don’t have the necessary resources or firepower to launch any offensive attack. The best we can do right now is defend and delay until we are able to figure out how to defeat Adriel,” Beatrice says.

Guilt immediately starts churning in her stomach; the real reason why she, for once, wants to run towards Adriel instead of away from him. The apology comes bursting out of her, “Hey, listen, I’m sorry about the Vatican. I don’t know what happened. He just touched me in that cave and light was everything, things exploded and I—something just...I don’t know. You guys bought me time, I’m grateful for that and I’m sorry the Halo wouldn’t work even though it had been seven minutes and it _was_ recharged—I felt—it just wasn’t—”

“Ava,” Beatrice cuts in softly, yet determinedly. “It’s not your fault. Adriel caught us all off-guard.”

Ava looks down at her feet, kicking wayward rocks as she walks. “Off-guard, right. Yeah.” Because that’s exactly what had happened. She had been caught off-guard and the Halo had responded to her fear by shutting down. Right? Right. Nothing new. 

Beatrice turns towards her, “Are you alright?” she asks. Her face is so so earnest, so honest, and if Ava looks at her any longer, her carefully constructed facade is going to collapse. 

“Yeah, I’m—I,” Beatrice has spent her entire life studying. Studying information, studying strategy, studying people, and she’s going to know if Ava is lying to her, so she goes for a half-truth instead. “—I just haven’t been sleeping well. I’m sure you all can relate,” Ava finishes weakly. It is, by no means her best lie and she can do better, on any other day she would, just—not right now. Not when Beatrice is looking at her like that.

Beatrice hums before moving to the next stall. She picks up a peach, inspecting it for any damage. “Alright,” she replies obligingly. She grabs a couple more of them before handing them to the vendor to weigh. “Recent events have made it difficult to navigate a clear path. Tensions have been high, but I want you to know that we’re always here for you.” She trades a couple of bills for the now bagged peaches. “ _I_ am always here for you,” she amends, softly.

Warm floods Ava’s chest and how is she supposed to lie to _that?_ “I can always count on you,” she replies, taking off some of the weight from her admission with a goofy smile. 

-

_She’s standing on a black square._

_Her head swivels around trying to make sense of her surroundings. The only source of light comes from above, casting everything else around her in shadows. It’s like she’s trapped inside something resembling a sinkhole. Distantly, she thinks she hears the sound of water trickling down, but it’s gone as quick as it came. Upon further examination, she’s not just standing on a black square, she’s actually standing on a board._

_More accurately, a chessboard. With the exact layout of the pieces that were on Camila’s chessboard earlier that afternoon._

_This was fucking twisted._

_As if something had been activated upon that realization, chess pieces start to appear on the board, rising in height until they tower over her, casting long shadows. White’s pawn moves before stopping three squares away from her._

_What the fuck was this?_

_She glances behind her and sees black’s knight move in it’s signature L-shape until it stands on the square beside her._

_Ava tries to get off of the board, but her feet remain stuck to the square. She tries everything she can as the pieces move around her, but they don’t budge. She looks back up and sees white’s queen towering over._

_Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck it was going to run her off of the board, she had to move, she had to—_

_White’s queen slides forward, taking out the knight on her right._

_Ava stands frozen, watching as the piece falls. A scream echoes and the chasm swallows it whole. As the piece goes down, Ava notices that the rich black lacquer reflects the distinct outline of a person—a woman. Her insides grow cold as she realizes where the scream came from._

_Inside of the chess piece. There was a woman trapped inside._

_Bile rises in the back of her throat and claustrophobia claws at her chest as she tries to find a way out of this. A chasm doesn’t have any walls, but in that moment she swears she sees her surroundings start closing in on her. Coming in to crush her._

_The pieces start to move faster and faster around her, picking up speed with each move until they almost become a blur. More and more screams echo as other pieces fall on the board, debris flying everywhere before it turns to dust._

_Ava slams her hands over her ears trying to drown it all out, but they only seem to grow louder and louder. She tries not to scream, for fear of accidentally waking up the team. Teeth bite down hard on the inside of her cheeks and warmth fills her mouth. She coughs and red comes out, staining the pristine white square with dark splotches._

_More and more pieces clatter to the ground, each one with a different woman inside of it. Ava is filled with the inexplicable feeling that she knows them. She knows who they are. But she’s never seen them before, so how can that be?_

_And then, as quick as it had started, the screams immediately cut off and everything stops._

_Ava slowly uncurls from her position on the ground only to see that she’s the last one left standing on the board._

_The board is empty, just like when she first arrived here. For a second, she thinks it’s going to start all over again, pieces appearing any minute now to repeat the cycle, but it stays clear._

_It’s just her._

_“You’re the chosen,” It whispers right next to her ear._

She wakes with a soundless scream, body contorting in pain as the Halo flares brightly against her back before going quiet, letting darkness crawl back into the room. Ava tries to force her lungs to work, haphazardly shoving the sheets off of her as she tumbles out of the cot. The walls are moving in on her, her head spins, equilibrium slipping further and further from her grasp. Her chest squeezing so painfully it hurts to breathe. She has to leave. She has to get out.

Ava stumbles out into the dark hallway, using the walls to guide her away from the site of her horrible nightmare. Moonlight spills in from the kitchen window— _how did she end up here?_ —casting a white glow on her skin. The inside of her mouth stings in pain, she runs her tongue across it, feeling gouges from her teeth, tasting hot iron. _No, no._ She needs the blood gone. 

She steps up to the sink, shaky hands bringing a glass under the faucet. She goes to turn the tap and the glass slips, a slight _thump_ accompanying it as it falls in the sink. “Fuck!” She curses and quickly picks it back up, hoping no one woke up from the sound. 

Ava raises the glass to her lips, quickly gulping the water until the glass is empty. Her back flares, but she does her best to ignore it, instead filling up the glass one more time. She drains that one too, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt, before quietly setting the glass down in the sink. 

_It’s still not enough._

She needs air. 

Ava grabs her shoes, quickly putting them on before silently making her way over to the front door. Her hand is on the knob, ready to turn when the hair on the back of her neck rises up. Someone is there. She whips her body around. Their face is shrouded in the dark, but moonlight strikes down on their hands, illuminating long black nails, curved like claws. There’s no mistaking who they belong to.

“Wanna tell me where you’re going?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still trying to find my footing with writing in canon-verse, i swear it gets harder and harder with each chapter. i hope u all enjoyed this chapter! what do u think of this weirdness, what did that dream mean? let me kno ur thoughts in the comments down below! 
> 
> alternatively, if u think i've committed any crimes, come yell at me on tumblr @analogoose.
> 
> see u all soon!


	3. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a bitter taste in her mouth as the emotions flood back in, shock, guilt, anger, and mostly disgust. Because of what she had just done. Of what she had been about to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aahhhhhh very very sorry for the big wait, did not mean to stay away for so long, it has just been a crazy end to the semester. 
> 
> thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos last chapter u guys are amazing! and thank you all for being so patient with me i really appreciate it so without further ado, here it is:

**part iii** **  
** _i’m the beast_  
_rattling the cage, asking for slaughter_ _  
_ _\- Franny Choi_

Her mouth opens but no words come out. Lilith takes that as a sign to prowl closer, like a predator stalking its prey, until she’s standing right in front of Ava. The dark claws slowly retract themselves, disappearing back under her nail beds. Her jaw is set, harsh and sharp where the moonlight strikes against her chin. 

Ava forces her heart to slow down. _What’s happening to me?_ She wants to ask, because if anyone comes close to understanding what it’s like when your entire world inverts itself, it’s Lilith. But she can’t. She’s pretty sure if she mentions anything related to the Incidents (because that’s what she’s going to call them now), she’s going to crumble. 

“Do you want to go on a walk?” Is what comes out instead. Lilith looks surprised by it—if only for a moment, before her face smooths out back into an unreadable expression. 

Ava spins on her heels, wrenching the door open—her hand trembles only _slightly_ , before she quickly lets go of the handle and shoves it back inside the pocket of her jacket. She leaves the door open, in case Lilith takes her up on her offer, and starts walking down the cobbled road. There’s a tell-tale sound of a door closing and Ava stops walking. Her chest tightens and she can’t help but feel the slightest bit disappointed. _Choose me._ Lilith could hardly be described as good company—the two couldn’t even be in the same room without going at each other’s throats—but she just... It wouldn’t hurt to have some company right now. 

She hears some shuffling behind her, then a small echo of footsteps that get louder and louder until they’re right next to her. Ava glances at her and the knot in her stomach loosens. The corner of Lilith’s lips twitch upwards in response before she turns away and continues down the path. 

...Did Lilith just smile at her? Huh. Tonight’s just full of surprises. 

Everything seems much softer under the pale moonlight. They follow a winding path in silence, passing by other houses and a few small shops. Her breath comes out in small visible puffs as she makes the trek. Lilith’s too, although she keeps her exhales a little more contained, arms clasped behind her back and perfectly poised as she walks with a regality unfamiliar to Ava. 

The quiet is nice until it isn’t. Until all she can hear is _you’re the chosen you’re the chosen_ and _we can do more wecandomore WE—_ She claps her hands over her ears. Lilith shoots her a look of confusion and Ava lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing her ears and trying to brush it off as a quirk. She needs to break this silence, fill it with something other than the voice inside her head. 

The words come tumbling out of her. “Ever think about how things were so much easier back then? The OCS didn’t practically collapse, you didn’t turn into Morbius,” out of the corner of her eye, Lilith tenses beside her, “and I didn’t upstage Lazarus,” At that, Lilith snorts.

“Times were definitely simpler,” the other woman comments wryly. 

“—Now we’re on the run from everyone while more and more freaky ass shit keeps happening.” Ava exhales loudly. 

“What do you mean?” Lilith gives her a curious look. 

“What?” Ava replies dumbly.

“What?” Lilith echoes back just as stupidly. She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. “You know, you’re not as quiet as you think. Did you forget that you’re in the presence of—”

“—a bunch of ninja nuns. Yeah, I know, I know.” Ava rolls her eyes. “Shoulda known it was too good to be true,” she mumbles, kicking up a small plume of dust. 

“We’re all light sleepers,” Lilith says. “Some more than most,” she adds as an afterthought. 

So there’s just no way no one in that motel room didn’t notice her leaving. Which means they were only humoring her, until now. Letting her think she had a leg up, when in fact, she was still on her knees.

The deception fills Ava with anxiety as she wonders just what else they were hiding from her. 

They stop in front of a church. The confusion must show on her face because Lilith raises an eyebrow in amusement before pulling the door open to walk in. Ava stands there for a few moments, still staring at the building in front of them before she huffs and follows the other woman inside. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Even though she keeps her voice low, there’s a small echo that travels throughout the place.

Lilith quietly considers her for a moment before speaking, “You seem weighed down.” The statement catches her off-guard because who would think that Lilith, of all people would—“The Halo Bearer can’t afford to be distracted.” 

Of course. God forbid Lilith ever be nice to her without citing the Halo as the primary cause for concern. She nods in the direction of the confessional booth and Ava snorts in surprise.

“What? I’m not a therapist.” Lilith looks almost affronted at the idea of having Ava talk to _her._

“So you want me to go to confession instead?” Ava asks incredulously. She’s pretty sure those things don’t work on atheists. In fact, she would probably make better progress sitting inside a telephone booth. 

“Lord knows you probably have a lot of sins to atone for,” Lilith says, but her comment lacks its usual sting. 

Ava looks back and forth between the confessional booth and Lilith, who refuses to budge from her current spot near the door, looking vaguely unsettled at being in here. 

She groans and marches over to the far end of the room where the confessional booth sits. The first thing she does is pull open the door, evaluating the tiny cubicle that she will eventually have to step inside. For good measure, she also looks inside of the other one to make sure that it's empty before she goes spilling all of her secrets. She doesn’t have to turn around to know that Lilith is making an unpleasant expression at her actions. 

She huffs and steps inside the cramped space, sitting down on the small bench as the door creaks shut. 

Ava sighs, resting her head against the back wall. She sits like that for a moment or two before growing restless. One leg starts bouncing up and down. Ava shifts until her face is squished against the wooden partition that separates the two booths. She peers in before releasing another breath and closing her eyes.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned—that’s how these things usually go right? ‘Cause I wouldn’t know since I’m an atheist, so I don’t even know why I’m in here—” Another sigh, heavier this time. “Lilith thought it might help. For the Halo. Not for me because god forbid anyone ever—” Her voice cracks, unable to finish the sentence. _Chooses me,_ her mind completes it for her. “Anyway, guess we should steer clear of heavy topics right? But I mean, I guess that’s what confession is all about _sooo_ in that case....”

Ava clears her throat, ready to get it all out, once and for all. “I think I’m going crazy?” There’s a slight high-pitched laugh, “I mean, I saw the future in my dreams. Then, apparently, a piece of divine metal is now talking to me? And to top it all off, I think said metal is trying a hostile takeover on my mind because there’s no way—I’m—everything is so messed up. It’s so fucking messed up—sorry for the,” She makes an incomprehensible gesture. “Anyway, I guess why I’m really here is because I feel...I feel like I’m trapped in this glass box and I’m seeing all this bad shit in my mind, but I can’t stop it. It just keeps—” Her throat bobs dangerously, she’s unraveling. 

Her hands grip the edge of the bench. She’s sure the wood is going to splinter, especially with how much force she’s applying on it. “I don’t feel in control,” Ava whispers. But there’s more. There’s so much more. So much that’s left unsaid in that simple statement. But she can’t go on. Not today. 

When she emerges from the booth, Lilith is sitting in a pew, staring straight ahead. As soon as she spots Ava, she immediately stands up, face impassive. “Ready to go?” She doesn’t even wait for Ava’s answering nod before swiftly turning around and all but bolting out of the place she had brought them to.

Jesus, what a shady bitch. It’s relieving to know Ava’s not the only one who has lost her fucking marbles. 

-

_“Beeaaaaatrice,”_ she whines. “This isn’t training, this is torture.” Ava wipes the sweat off of her forehead as she resumes her stance. Strike. Block. Feint. Stri—Ow, ribs. She pulls back for a minute, bouncing on her toes as she tries to regain her breath. 

Beatrice continues circling her, trying for a few test jabs to coerce Ava back into the momentum. “I need to assess your skills before we can begin developing a suitable training regimen,” she hardly sounds out of breath while Ava struggles to properly work her lungs. _No fair._

The afternoon sun beats down on them as they continue sparring in the small courtyard behind their house. Out of the two of them, Beatrice is more covered up than her and she hardly looks like she’s breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, Ava is dripping buckets, her clothes stick to her skin, palms wet and slippery. _Ugh, gross._

There’s a shuffling of footsteps that pulls her attention away from the fight. She looks over to see Mary sitting down on the steps in the veranda as she watches them.

“Enjoying this?” Ava asks. She drops her guard, arms falling to her side for a split second—and really she should have known better, because it’s hardly a moment later the wind is knocked out of her as she bends over, arms coming over her stomach to protect it. “Oomph.”

“Focus,” Beatrice chastises as she goes in for another punch.

Mary just laughs at her misfortune. “Best show of my life,” she comments and Ava throws up a middle finger at her before resuming her stance. She sidesteps, almost narrowly avoiding Beatrice’s fist clipping her jaw. Ava does her best to defend the onslaught of punches, jabs, and kicks that Beatrice lets loose on her, taking steps backwards until she feels something hard poke her back. She chances a quick glance behind her, realizing that she’s blocked by a tree. 

“Oh fuck!” She ducks just as Beatrice’s leg arcs through the air where her head once was. She stares at the other woman in bewilderment.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” Beatrice simply comments, raising an eyebrow in challenge as she waits for Ava’s counterattack.

“I _am.”_

“Show me,” Beatrice commands.

There’s no way she’s winning this, but she’s not Ava if she doesn’t go down without a fight. A quick glance to the sidelines informs her that their sparring session seems to have attracted a few more spectators with both Lilith and Camila joining Mary on the veranda as they eagerly watch Ava getting her ass handed to her. 

She rolls her head around for good measure, shrugging her shoulders before resuming her defensive position and immediately going for a jab to which Beatrice easily redirects before countering with a small series of jabs that leaves Ava pinwheeling backwards while she tries retain her balance. 

“Too impulsive,” Beatrice sighs, there’s a small shake of her head as if she still thinks that Ava is treating this like some sort of game.

Ava clenches her fists tighter, frustrated. This isn’t going to work. She can’t beat Beatrice at her own game, she has to try something new. Beatrice is too smart to let her try and create an opening, so she’s just going to have to find one. She tries out a few light kicks to Beatrice’s calf, testing how she responds, before moving in for a jab to her gut that she quickly feints, to which Beatrice responds by landing a hard and fast kick, shin to thigh, which lands with a dull _smack_ , leaving Ava stumbling back as she clutches her leg in dismay _._

A warning.

Before the Halo can even attempt to soothe the flareup of pain, Beatrice launches quick strikes that Ava blocks with her biceps, stinging with every hit. Too busy trying to keep her face from getting pummeled by Beatrice’s fists, she doesn’t even see it coming as her legs get swept out from under her as she lands on her butt with a dull _thud._

Ava leans back on her palms and looks up, eyes squinting against the bright light of the sun, as she faces Beatrice who has a small frown on her face. It’s disappointment.

 _Failure._

“Again,” she quietly commands.

Ava thinks she might offer her a hand, help her up, but Beatrice doesn’t even spare her a glance as she walks back to her position, resuming her stance as she waits for Ava to pull herself up. 

“Do better, Ava,” She blocks another one of Ava’s opening punches, retaliating with a low kick. “Can you?” Beatrice challenges, before diving to launch a low strike at Ava’s stomach that she narrowly blocks. It’s the question that gets Ava, leaving her wrong-footed as she struggles to get her guard back up. 

That challenge— _can you?_ —as if she thinks Ava is incapable of it. As if she doesn’t expect it from her, and Ava so desperately wants to prove her wrong. Because she’s _fucking tired_ of them always looking down on her, because she’s more powerful than any of them ever realize and she has the _goddamn Halo in her back—_

In the short time that she’s gotten to know Beatrice, Ava knows that no matter what the other woman is up against, she will always win. _Jab, block, breathe, breathe, kick, fall back—_ which means that no matter how good of an opponent Ava is, she’s never going to be able to beat her. Something ignites within her, reaching deep down into her core and the answer comes to her completely unprompted and out of her control, as a sharp push against her mind.

Beatrice has faced countless opponents, all at various skill levels, but she’s never had to fight herself. No, if Ava wants to beat her, she has to do it as Beatrice. 

This time, when Beatrice launches another attack, she pays attention: jab-jab, kick, strike— _there_ , a push against her mind and she knows what’s coming next in Beatrice’s pattern of moves. Before Beatrice can finish the sequence, Ava redirects the punch before it even takes flight, using the opening she’s created to land a punch against Beatrice’s left rib that has her stumbling back with the smallest grunt. 

_That’s it._

There’s a sharp intake of breath from the peanut gallery and Ava’s confidence is slightly bolstered by the fact that she’s managed to catch them _all_ off-guard. Her eyes shine with unrestrained challenge as she beckons Beatrice to come closer with a quick motion of her hand. 

They’re back to circling each other again, sizing up each other, looking for any opening to make their first move. Then, Ava does something she would never do, she relaxes. Her fists a little looser, her arms dropping the slightest bit lower, stance a little bit wider.

Beatrice’s brow furrows the slightest bit, but she takes the opening to launch a strike that Ava easily redirects with a move that Beatrice used earlier in their session. Her eyes widen the slightest bit as she sees her own move reflected back at her. The surprise on her face fills Ava with a high unlike any other and she lets it carry her, letting it dictate her moves. 

Jab, block, strike-strike, kick.

She’s throwing Beatrice’s own combination of moves back at her, body moving effortlessly as if the sequence has been ingrained in her like muscle memory. And little by little, she sees herself gaining the upper hand in the fight as Beatrice starts to struggle to properly defend herself against her own attacks. Ava’s limbs start to move independently, no longer controlled by her thoughts. She doesn’t even have to think before she makes the next move, body already one step ahead of her mind—jab-jab, block, feint, a _slightly_ harder than usual strike to the ribs—and this time, they’re close enough that she feels the rattle of Beatrice’s lungs when the hit lands. 

She doesn’t have time to feel any guilt as her body starts on another combination of strikes. Ava feels something wet runs down her nose. Her tongue darts out, tasting iron against her lips. _When did that happen?_ Better question: how did she not feel it?

Before Ava can even dwell on it, her body moves forward, launching another combination of strikes, each one packing more and more force behind it. Her movements are hers until they’re not. Her body is hers until it _isn’t._

She aches, each of her nerve endings flaring in pain as she blocks and counters. There’s a small thud from somewhere, she’s brought Beatrice down. She glimpses at Beatrice’s face, blood running down her cheek, face impassive but strained with pain. Her back sears, everything in her limbs screaming for her to go for the final blow, finish it off. The command comes from somewhere deep within her, no longer a gentle push against her mind, but a forceful intrusion applying more and more pressure until she can’t help but obey. 

They continue the fight on the ground, grappling for a minute—Beatrice with more finesse and technique than Ava, but the exhaustion is catching up to her. Ava can tell in the slightly sluggish movements of Beatrice, in the way that she’s breathing harder. It’s not long before Ava is able to find a suitable opening to make her move. Her body doesn’t waste a second in twisting around to straddle Beatrice’s waist before she can get back up. Beatrice must read something in her expression because she immediately throws her arms up, trying to protect her face. 

It all echoes inside of her. 

_A twist of the neck—_

_—we can do more—_

_—make her bleed—_

Ava’s arm comes down hard and fast, fist making contact rather loudly and painfully. The impact of the hit reverberates through her bones, settling deep into her heart like guilt and pain as her body _finally_ syncs back with her mind, limbs becoming her own again. Beatrice looks at the fist that landed inches from her head and the spiderweb cracks forming in the ground, then back at Ava. 

There’s a bitter taste in her mouth as the emotions flood back in, shock, guilt, anger, and mostly disgust. Because of what she had just done. Of what she had been about to do. 

“I win,” Ava croaks, feeling anything but victorious. 

-

“—never happened before—”

Snippets of conversation filter across the house. Ava gently shuts the door, making sure it’s locked, before sliding off her shoes. She feels her stomach rumble, a product of her long walk around the city and more likely to do with the afternoon sparring that she doesn’t want to think about.

She makes a beeline to the kitchen, crossing into the dining room where Mary, Lilith, and Camila are sitting at the table, discussing something in hushed tones. Mary is the first to notice her, voice immediately cutting off as she regards Ava with a blank face. 

“Whatcha guys talking about?” She asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible despite the budding feeling of unease in her chest. They were talking about her. She’s not stupid. Mary and Lilith might have exceptional poker faces, but Camila looks like a kid with her hand stuck in a cookie jar. It’s obvious. Ava is _unreliable. Uncontrollable._

Beatrice is notably absent from this impromptu meeting, but her presence lingers heavily, hooking itself into Ava’s heart, burrowing further and further every time she thinks about the woman upstairs, and what she had done to her today. _Too far. You’re supposed to protect them, not hurt them._

“You,” Mary simply replies. Ava blinks, caught off-guard by the blunt yet honest response. Her chair scrapes across the tile as she stands up. “Come help me with dinner,” Mary says, turning her back towards Ava to disappear into the kitchen. 

Mary ropes her into veggie duty, assigning her to chop up tomatoes and other vegetables that are going to go into the salad. Ava mindlessly moves the knife, eyes focused on the cutting board but her mind far away. The two of them work in silence. Mary moves around the kitchen, pulling open cabinets to fish out various spices that she dutifully adds into the soup before grabbing a ladle to stir the pot. She picks up a spoon and dips it into the pot before holding it out to Ava.

She moves forward, mouth closing around the spoon as she taste-tests the soup. “What do you think?” Mary asks, looking expectant. 

Ava shrugs, “Good.” The flavors were unfamiliar to her, but not bad. Having spent years of her life consuming a mysterious sludge that the nuns at the orphanage liked to call “porridge,” she was still discovering new tastes and textures every day. Her most recent favorite was the mango. The soft, smooth fruit that slid over her tongue bringing every single one of her taste receptors alive to taste the rich, tangy sweetness. It was heaven on earth. 

Mary makes a small _hmm_ sounding before ladling another small serving on the spoon to have a taste for herself. “Maybe a little more lime,” she comments absentmindedly, going over to the fridge to fetch it. 

She watches Mary, who navigates the kitchen with ease and a distinct familiarity that could have only come with spending a significant amount of time here. Ava wonders how long she has had this house, if it was really as unlived in as the other woman tried to make it out to be.

“Wanna tell me what the hell happened today?” Mary turns the heat down, putting a lid on the pot as she absentmindedly wipes her hands against a towel. 

Ava’s movements stutter, the knife coming too close to her fingers. She nervously laughs, “Gonna have to be more specific than that, Mary.” 

Mary leans her elbows against the cold granite of the island, leveling Ava with her signature ‘don’t bullshit me’ look. “Did something happen between you and Beatrice?” She leans her head down, trying to get Ava to meet her gaze. 

The knife clatters noisily against the cutting board. “No,” She huffs. “Nothing happened.” 

“So what was that out there?”

 _A sharp snap under her hands—a body going limp._ “I lost control,” she responds lamely. 

“Okay,” Mary hums. “Then, we’ll work on it.” 

Ava freezes, bewildered. “Wait, that’s it?” The knife clatters noisily against the board. “That’s all you’re going to say?” She had expected to be berated, to be lectured on her recklessness. And here was Mary, accepting it like she had just made a comment about the weather and not almost killed one of her sisters.

Mary turns to her, eyebrow raising in puzzlement. 

“I could have seriously hurt Beatrice! Before today, I didn’t even realize I could do that! _To Beatrice,_ who’s like the best fucking fighter out there.” She’s aware that her voice is rising higher and higher, but she couldn’t care less. She needs to get this _out._ “My fist was _an inch_ from her face and the ground was—I almost kil—” Her voice cracks, throat bobbing dangerously. _I’m the Warrior Nun, I’m supposed to protect you all. Not hurt you._

Mary steps closer to her, resting her hands on Ava’s shoulders as she forces Ava to make eye contact with her. “You or the Halo?”

Ava falters. Her hesitance must give her away because Mary backs away, nodding to herself, seemingly reaching a conclusion that Ava is desperate to hear, but too afraid to ask for. “Your back was lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.”

Her hands grip the edge of the counter. She has no idea how to respond to this. No idea how to tell Mary how complicated it is. “Language,” Ava weakly calls out.

Mary snorts, realizing that she has pushed the limits of this conversation. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.” She squeezes Ava’s shoulder before moving behind her to grab the colander. “Now, help me wash some more spinach.”

Ava releases a shaky breath before following Mary to the sink. 

_Trust your team,_ Beatrice’s voice echoes in her mind.

-

_The hallways of the orphanage are dark and empty, with only the light coming in from the windows to guide her. Ava takes the path that took the last time she stepped foot in here. She turns another corner before stopping in front of a familiar pair of double doors._

_Her hands hover over the wood for a moment. She glances to her left and then to her right before pushing the doors open._

_It’s quiet. Too quiet. The room looks untouched—even Diego’s side, which is usually messy is now all tidied up. Ava steps in, slowly walking over to her side. She trails her fingers over books on the shelf in fondness. She moves to the wall, admiring her odd collection of pictures, posters, and other orphanage memorabilia. Idly, her hand traces the 1984 poster._

_Ava sighs, leaving her side of the room when she finds the wheelchair, resting beside her bed._

_She huffs and gives it a small kick._

_Her gaze idly roams around the room when something catches her eye. She walks over to Diego’s side until she’s standing in front of his bed._

_There, on the bedside table._

_Her fingers reverently trace over the flimsy chessboard before picking up white’s queen and holding it in the moonlight. A small smile takes shape as she clutches plastic piece tightly, running her thumb over the grooves and ridges before setting it back down on the table._

_There’s a sound of something crashing and Ava immediately whips her head around, searching for the sound._

_She’s not alone._

_She quickly races out into the hallway, head snapping back and forth as she tries to locate the source of the noise. There. A shadow at the corner of the hall. Ava runs to the right, skidding around the bend until she comes across a very familiar body slumped against the wall, neck twisted at an unnatural angle._

_She sucks in a sharp breath, lungs throbbing. A memory that she’d long buried resurfaces, unwelcome and tainted. Sister Francis’ lifeless eyes stare back at her, a bottomless void that’s bound to suck her in if she doesn’t look away._

_She tears her eyes away, refusing to take a step closer._

_Another Ava steps up next to her, head tilting to the side as she examines the body in what looks like fascination?_

_Ava is going to be sick. What the fuck. What the fuck is this. She stares at herself—no, not her. Whatever this...Thing is, it’s not her. It stole her body. It looks like her, but it isn’t._

_“Why am I here?” She whispers. Because all of this has to be a part of some sick twisted joke. Some shitty fucking prank. There’s no way this can be real._

_Not-Ava crosses her arms, still appraising the body in front of them. It unsettles Ava that this Thing has her body—is it inside of her? Is this still Her mind?—but every movement and mannerism is so unlike Ava, it’s creepy. “Thought you might appreciate a more familiar setting,” the voice is strange and guttural, jagged like a sword._

_“How did you know about this place?”_

_Not-Ava gives a disinterested shrug. “Your mind is my mind.”_

_It’s as if a bucket of ice-cold water has been splashed over her head. The terrifying realization that her mind isn’t only hers anymore. That someone else can see inside her mind and see her thoughts, feel her feelings. Anger burns inside of her chest, waiting to be unleashed on whatever was intruding her mind._

_She shoves Not-Ava hard, who stumbles back, looking the slightest bit surprised. “You sick fuck!” Ava screams. “Why would you bring me here?”_

_Not-Ava dusts her clothes. “Your guilt,” her doppelganger replies._

_“What is that even supposed to mean?”_

_“This,” not-Ava waves her hand at the dead body, “is holding you back. You need to do something about it or I will. And you won’t like it when I take control.” There’s a hard edge to her tone as Ava feels the slightest push against her mind. The familiar pressure digs at her brain, reminding her of this afternoon._

_Ava’s hand trembles as she curls it into a fist. She wants to punch her doppelganger in the face. For the nightmares. For the cafe. For making her hurt Beatrice. But her curiosity overwhelms her anger until all that’s left is the aching desire to Know. There’s so many questions she wants to ask. Who are you? Are you inside of the Halo? Why are you doing this? What do you want?_

_Not-Ava must sense the force behind the questions because she immediately stiffens before flashing Ava a small smirk. There’s a split second of confusion before the ground starts shaking. Sharp, whip-cracks follow as doors start splintering. Debris falls onto Sister Francis’ limp body, jostling it and Ava’s stomach rolls._

_The sudden onslaught of noise leaves her ears ringing as she tries to grapple with the chaos that is happening around her. “What the hell?” Ava’s head is spinning. The room is spinning._

_Not-Ava stands next to her, regarding her with amusement. One arm comes up to give her a small, taunting wave. “Until next time, Ke’naç.”_

_The unfamiliar word rattles around her skull. Ava’s confusion must show on her face but her doppelganger says nothing, face carefully composed as It fades away, leaving Ava trapped in the orphanage as the walls start to crumble around her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have to say, this is my fav chapter yet and i hope u guys like it as much as i do. im kinda sad that ive been neglecting camila so next chapter will be some long overdue ava cam bonding along with avatrice talking hehehe. until then, dont be a stranger! 
> 
> im officially on winter break, so i have all the time in the world to give this fic more of my attention. hope u guys are doing well. let me kno what u thought of this crazy chapter in the comments down below! what do u think is going on?
> 
> as always, come find me on tumblr @analogoose.
> 
> see u all soon!


	4. iv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camila tilts her head, softly studying Ava before deciding on something. She turns and gently plucks a flower from one of the shrubs, delicately twirling the stem between her fingers before reaching forward to tuck it behind Ava’s ear. Her heart clenches at the soft gesture. She reaches up, gently touching the flower in her hair, warmth blooming in her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your incredibly lovely comments and kudos! U guys keep me going and I have the best time reading them and am always smiling like an idiot at my screen. Also, Im terribly sorry for the big delay. This semester has been absolutely chaotic and i swear i have at least one exam every week. I’ve never really written camila before and i didnt think that she would be this hard to write, but i hope i did her justice. U probably noticed there’s now an official chapter count! Maybe ill stick to it, maybe not. 
> 
> Anyways, i present the next chapter which is probably the sweetest and softest thing i have written so far:

**part iv**  
_how many ghosts must I always carry with me?_  
_how much more must I expand to accommodate?_ _  
_ _\- Chloë Rose_

“Hello Ava!” 

She looks up at the voice, eyes squinting against the glare of the sun as she’s met with Camila’s bright smile. Rays burst forth and strike against her ribs, quiet warmth seeping into the cracks and finding home in her chest. “Would you like to come to the market with me?” Camila asks. 

Her shoulders loosen and Ava abandons the half-destroyed flower she had been picking at to immediately leap up and take one of the canvas bags from Camila, slinging it over her shoulder. “So what are we buying? Or stealing?” She waggles her eyebrows, dodging out of the way as Camila tries to swat her shoulder in admonishment. 

“Thou shall not steal,” Camila dutifully recites, clutching the bag tightly over her shoulders as she starts walking down the path that leads them to the shops. 

Ava hums. “So I suppose that tiny Fiat you hot-wired in Cento two weeks ago or that house we squatted in and then ransacked for supplies only counts as…”

“Borrowing,” Camila supplies. “We left the car,” she pauses, “—in the area,” actually, it was twenty miles away from its original destination but Ava decides to keep that detail to herself, “and we’ll return everything to the house when we’re in a better position to do so.” Her smile becomes strained, cheeks twitching. “Not that anything we do matters much anymore since we’ve all likely been excommunicated.” She remarks a little too cheerfully.

 _Oh._ And suddenly Camila’s odd and slightly forced bubbliness makes a little more sense. 

Ava releases a breath. “Cam…” she hesitantly begins because what is she supposed to say? Sorry, I got you kicked out of your super exclusive yet also super important club? One that was associated with a lot of emotionally traumatic memories for Ava and was not in good standing, in her opinion, but obviously something that mattered very much to Sister Warriors. “I’m sorry,” is what she settles on. 

Pathetic response, truly. 

Camila shakes her head. “No, Ava. It’s not your fault. I’ve had time to come to terms with it.” Ava remembers the broody and somber mood that overtook the group, making the air heavier and harder to breathe when Camila wasn’t around to lighten it up. The aggressive sharpening of knives accompanied by the dull _thunk_ that continued on for days on end as poor trees all around were on the receiving end of Camila’s silent anger as she took out her frustrations via target practice. 

The corner of her mouth quirks up into barely a smile—she’s trying, alright?—before she swiftly turns away, unable to bear Camila’s sad look a moment longer. The truth is, she’s not sure if Camila _had_ come to terms with it. And she’s not sure if she’s the best one for this conversation, but she’s the only one that’s here now. _Buckle up, Ava._ Her eyes dart around before catching a food stall that stands a few feet aways from them. She cocks her head, thoughtfully regarding the truck as a plan slowly starting to take shape. Despite being in the heart of Italy, the town they’re in is fondly called ‘Little Oaxaca’ by the locals, because of its inclination towards Latin American flavors and spices despite being surrounded by pizza, pasta, and wine. “Say Camila,” she spins around, putting on the biggest mischievous grin, “fancy a pambazo?”

Camila’s brow furrows, mouth twisting up into a confused smile. Ava winks, grabbing Camila’s hand to loosely intertwine their fingers together before dragging her further along the stone paths. They follow a few winding roads, weaving in and out of small crowds with quick, hurried apologies and sheepish grins as Ava’s eyes search around for a familiar firetruck-red tent she saw a couple days ago. 

She stops, catching a familiar smell that could only be associated with the delicious sandwich. _Aha!_

Camila stumbles into Ava’s back, letting out a small “oof” at the abrupt stop. “Ava, what—”

“Cam, look!” Ava nods her head at the red tent, the muscles in her face flex into an easy grin, temporarily unhindered by the heaviness that had been plaguing her for the past week. 

Camila makes a confused hum before she follows Ava’s gaze. Her eyes grow wide with excitement as she exclaims “Pambazos!” and all but drags Ava to the stall, almost plowing over a toddler in her glee. They’re early, beating the crowd lunch rush by an hour, however, that doesn’t stop passersby from stepping up to purchase one for themselves once they catch a whiff of the delicious smells coming from the stall. 

They’re the last ones to receive their sandwiches with salsa verde before the vendor informs the rest of the line that they have run out of it today. Ava kindly thanks the lady in stilted Italian as she grabs the tiny bag holding the sandwiches and joins Camila who’s sitting on a bench, admiring the blooming bougainvilleas whose magenta bracts stand out proudly under the sun. 

She carefully pulls the wrapper down until only half of it is covering the sandwich before handing it off to Camila who immediately takes a bite with gusto, giving a muffled squeal that sends a nearby bird squawking. “Oh, I missed this,” she sighs. 

She watches her sister with a fond look on her face before taking a bite out of her own. Red guajillo pepper sauce coats her lips as the spiced potato and chorizo filling warms her mouth followed by the coolness of sour cream and cotija cheese that reinvigorates her taste buds.

_“What’s this?” Her head lifts up, the coiled muscles in her neck straining against the effort as she dubiously eyes the bag of marshmallows sitting on her bed then at its newest occupant who sits wedged beside her hand, peering at her with an eager look._

_“Something soft for a hard talk.”_

_She exhales, head dropping back down against the pillow as she resigns herself to her fate. “Too much sugar is not good for the teeth.”_

_“Well, if you’re not going to eat them, then I guess there’s more for me!” Diego exclaims, sticking out his tongue. He wiggles a marshmallow enticingly before popping it into his mouth._

They’re surrounded by the soft aroma of honey and ripe citrus, a warm barrier encircling them for however long they decide to remain here. A safe space on this bench where they could just exist without worrying about the world out there so she takes the leap. “Why did you join the Order?” Ava gently asks.

Camila fidgets with her wrapper, tearing off strings of plastic with her nails. A ghost of a smile warms up her features and Ava’s heart squeezes in her chest. “I am the youngest in a family of eight. Three brothers and two other sisters. I love them so much. I _miss_ them even more.” Her face clouds briefly, before she shakes her head, clearing them away. “We shared everything with each other—food, clothes, toys. But they all shined so bright. My brothers were set to take over the shop and my sisters learned their way around the kitchen and the farm. Then, there was me, and I didn’t want the shop or the farm, I just wanted— ”

“Something different,” Ava finishes. The hard metal of the bench is tight under her grasp as she eyes Camila with growing understanding.

Camila turns, eyes wide with earnest and a watery smile. “Our parents made sure we remained involved in the community, they wanted to put down roots. We went to Sunday school, never missed mass, volunteered at the soup kitchen, participated in our local church’s youth choir. My siblings never really cared much for it, and I can’t say I did either.” She flashes a wry smile. “I was actually quite a difficult child, too impatient and always finding trouble—”

Ava gasps loudly. “You mean to tell me Sister Camila wasn’t always singing kumbaya and shitting rainbows out of her ass?”

Instead of being offended, Camila only flashes a coy grin. “Don’t be silly, Ava, only unicorns do that.” Her eyes are fond as she relaxes in the wave of memories, “It was actually how I first encountered the Order. I had picked up a particularly bad hobby of breaking into cars. I didn’t take anything or do any damage, it was just fun. Something to call my own. It kept me busy.” Ava nods in understanding. “Anyways, a clergyman from the Order was visiting town and it was just my luck that I ended up breaking into his car.”

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit, indeed,” Camila agrees with mirth. “It was surprising because when he caught me, he didn’t even look angry.” She pauses. “Honestly, he looked bored. He just said, ‘I would ask if you can drive me to the church, but you hardly look old enough to hold a license, let alone be breaking into stranger’s cars.’”

Ava stares, wide-eyed. “So what did you do?”

Camila gives a one-shouldered shrug. “I moved over to the passenger side and then he told me he had some business at the church. It was an awkward car ride.” She scrunches her face before shaking her head to get rid of the uncomfortable memory. “ When we got there, he disappeared off to do whatever he came for and left me alone. The church was completely empty so I just wandered around for a bit.” Camila stares into the distance, wistfulness clouding her features. “It was weird. Every time I had been there, there was always someone there. I had never seen it look so empty. So quiet.” 

She changes direction, “There was a piano that always sat at the front of the room. I didn’t have any formal training—lessons were expensive, but I always managed to be there whenever Fyffe was practicing so I learned enough by just watching her and sneaking in practice whenever I could.” She exhales, “Anyway, she used to play this song at mass and it was just the most beautiful I had ever heard. Every time she played it, felt as though nothing else mattered in that moment. I never learned what it was called, but the memory of it stayed with me. That night, I got the urge to hear it played again in that empty church so I sat down and played it. Honestly it was a bit clunky and my inexperience definitely shone through, but...”

“You found it,” Ava quietly states.

Camila smiles, full and bright. “I found it,” she echoes. “There was no one in that room, other than Him. but for the first time in my life, I had something—something that was mine. Father Armand must have heard me because he came back and said that he was looking for a new pianist at his convent and that I’d be a perfect fit.” Camila relaxes, “At the time, I didn’t really think about becoming a nun or anything, I just knew that I wanted to play the piano. The rest, I could figure out as I went along.”

Ava lets out a low whistle. “Wow, who knew Sister Camila almost became Inmate Camila,” she jokes.

Camila laughs freely. “I very well could have.” She gets up from the bench, collecting both of their litter to deposit in the bin. 

Ava follows suit, brushing sandwich crumbs off of her pants. “So what’s next, boss?”

Camila tilts her head, softly studying Ava before deciding on something. She turns and gently plucks a flower from one of the shrubs, delicately twirling the stem between her fingers before reaching forward to tuck it behind Ava’s ear. Her heart clenches at the soft gesture. She reaches up, gently touching the flower in her hair, warmth blooming in her chest.

“Let’s plant a garden.” 

Camila leads them to a flower shop a couple of blocks away from their previous location. The Sister’s bubbly personality helps them make friends with the owner within five minutes of meeting. The owner in question is a short, elderly lady, who first opened the shop with her husband. After he passed, she decided to keep running it, despite being told to sell. The grandma leads them to the back where the greenhouse is and gives a brief tour of all the flora. Ava decides to hang back, quietly examining purple, hanging petals and curled stems as she listens to Camila talk to the old lady. 

“That one is a bluebell, _una campanula._ Will grow beautiful little bells when nurtured properly.” A low, soothing tone answers from her left.

Ava’s hand jerks back and she looks up in surprise. She hadn’t even heard the lady approach her. The old woman’s face crinkles into a smile, showing her crow’s feet behind wisps of white hair. She grabs two of the pots and shoves them into Ava’s hands. “You will take good care of them,” she commands, giving Ava a soft grandmotherly pat on the shoulder before disappearing. 

Late afternoon finds them wandering in an old pawn shop that’s seen better days. Light streams in through scratched and weathered windows, reflecting against the objects in the glass case at the front, casting the room in a broken kaleidoscope of warm, yellow light. 

“So then what made you join the Order?” Ava asks, breaking their bubble of silence.

Camila examines a die-cast model car with a soft, almost sad look. “The people. I found people who understood me. What once was a dreadful hour spent at the front of a church, exhausting my lungs for no reason, was now an activity I looked forward to, spending meaningful time with my Sisters.” She huffs, a small laugh escaping past her lips, “It sounds a bit cliche but, in finding myself, I found God.”

Ava hears what goes unspoken. She gives Camila a small nudge, “Hey, you found it once and you’ll find it again. Maybe the Order isn’t what it once was, but you still have Beatrice, Lilith, and Mary. Not all of your Sisters are gone. Your faith in Him is still yours. You still belong.” She pauses, fingers stuttering over an old, dusty camera, resisting the urge to pick it up. “Don’t let the Order ever make you feel otherwise.” 

“Thank you, Ava,” Camila whispers, face hopeful and shoulders looking a little lighter. 

_And where do I belong?_

Her throat bobs dangerously, Ava turns back to the shelf, trying to control the emotions shuddering through her frame. 

Camila suddenly perks up, eyes catching something. She steps inside Ava’s bubble, reaching across to push away some items before pulling out an old walkman. She fiddles with a few buttons, popping it open to check out the cassette that was still inside. “Oh, my brothers loved these,” Camila sighs, recounting fondly. 

“Mine too,” Ava whispers. She’s not sure what possesses her to say that out loud and share a part of her old life. A past life. Her heart stutters, thinking of marshmallows, tousled brown hair and Elton John. “Diego would take his headphones, put them on my ears and always blast it while I was sleeping.” She forces a laugh, “You can only wake up to _I’m a rocket man_ for so long before going crazy.”

Camila softly laughs, murmuring her agreement. She gently hands the walkman to Ava before leaving to peruse some of the other shelves. 

Ava looks down at the walkman in her hands, fingers running over the faded colors. She curses Diego for getting the song stuck in her head, but makes no move to put the walkman down. She holds on to it even as they spend the next half hour studying every shelf, touching every item as _you can go your own way, go your own way_ plays on repeat inside her head. And when late afternoon bleeds into evening, Camila comes by with a soft smile. “You’re my sister too, Ava,” she whispers meaningfully, giving a soft squeeze of the shoulder. They stand side by side, shoulders touching while they watch the sun chase the horizon through cloudy windows, basking in the memories of boisterous siblings who made life a little less lonely.

\- 

Lilith’s body twists and turns fluidly as she does a complicated series of moves involving a few strikes and kicks before finishing the combination off with a low spinning sweep. She straightens up, shaking out her shoulders. “Play that back for me,” she commands, gesturing for Ava to take her spot as she steps off to the side, crossing her arms in expectancy.

Ava stares, baffled. She throws her hands up in the air, “How am I supposed to do that?!” 

Lilith shrugs, raising her shoulders in a ‘beats me’ gesture as if it’s not her problem to solve. “You did it yesterday.” 

She grits her teeth. “That was the _Halo,_ ” she says slowly, _patiently._ “Not me.”

“Then use the Halo to do it again.” Lilith says, mimicking her slowness as if Ava is a child that just isn’t understanding. 

She scrubs at her face, silently begging Lilith to back off. She’s not ready for this. It’s too soon. Just yesterday she almost plowed Beatrice’s teeth into the back of her skull. “It’s not like a fucking light switch that I can just turn on and off!” Ava snaps, aggravated. 

“You’re not even trying.” Lilith growls back. 

“Not even trying my—” Her fists are tight. “Fine. I’ll _try._ ” She stomps to the spot that Lilith had just occupied. Ava turns her head to the left then back to the right, before rolling it, mentally hyping herself up to call up whatever demonic spirit had possessed her to almost rage-kill Be—

No. No thinking about that.

Her hands nervously twitch at her sides. She warily eyes Lilith before taking a deep breath and slowly closing her eyes. “Alrighty, Halo demon show yourself.” Ava waits. And waits. She clears her throat, uncomfortably shifting. It doesn’t feel...any different. Maybe she just needs to try again. “Halo demon, if you’re here, give me a sign you’re listening.” After a few minutes of _absolutely nothing,_ she makes a sound of frustration, opening her eyes. “I look like a fucking clown, standing here with my eyes closed talking to the air.” Ava shakes her head. “I’d probably have better luck with a ouija board and some candles.”

“You’re not taking this seriously!” Lilith snaps. 

“That’s because this is all one colossally twisted joke!” 

“Seriously?!” Lilith stands there, bewildered. She snorts, rolling her eyes before turning to head back into the house. “Whatever will become of the Halo Bearer if you give up that easily,” she calls out, but Ava is already rushing off in the other direction, jaw clenched tight.

She walks until she leaves behind Lilith’s barbs and Mary’s ugly green house. She walks down the winding paths, passing by groups of teenagers laughing jovially and young couples holding hands. There’s a tightness in her throat that grows with each passing second. 

Ava comes to a stop at a cobblestone bridge that rests over a small river. She steps up, intending to fully make the trek across, but instead comes to a stop in the very middle. Ava leans over, both hands in the pockets of her jacket, studying the water that rushes under her feet. 

She sighs. Turning around to lean on the stone ledge before sliding down until she’s sitting on the ground. One hand comes up to her chest—the hand that had almost hurt Bea— as she cradles it close to her heart. Her head tips up, eyes catching one last glimpse of the soft clouds and the darkening sky before they flutter shut. 

The river is loud in her ears, rushing through the canal at an unrelenting pace. She runs a thumb over the stone under her, feeling its coarseness. It’s still warm to the touch despite the sun having set less than an hour ago. Ava takes a deep breath before releasing it. Then another, until she feels the river slowly ebbing away in the background, morphing into a sound akin to a faucet running that slowly tapers off into small unsteady drops before going silent. She keeps one hand curled around her knees, hugging them to her chest, the other mindlessly running over the textured stone on the ground. If she pushes down on it, she can almost feel it sink. 

There’s a drifting scent of...french fries? Ava pauses, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. 

She opens her eyes only to be greeted by a classic spread one might find at a diner straight out of the eighties. There’s even a chocolate milkshake sitting innocuously on the side. “What. The. Absolute. Fuck.” Eyes wide, she looks down at her seat, hard stone ground now traded out for red faux leather. 

Ava twists around in the booth, glancing around with a small feeling of dread. All at once, the sounds begin to rush in. She hears snippets of drifting conversations, meat patties sizzling on a flat top, the noisy din of glassware clinking against each other. Above it all, there’s a sharp high pitched ringing that’s starting to get louder and louder, like a monitor flatlining. Her chest seizes and she feels the aftershocks rattle her lungs. There’s a busboy who’s clearing out tables, glass tumbling into bins—windows scrunching, metal bending, the car spins and spins and—

Her breaths are becoming shallower and shallower. Ava sinks in the booth, reaching forward to snag the milkshake glass and shakily press it against her forehead as she tries to calm herself down. _Shit. Fuck. Fuck._ She stays like that for who knows how long, trying to focus on the cold sensation of the glass as she counts her breaths until they start to return naturally.

When she comes to, it’s with her reflection sitting across from her, sporting an identical-looking milkshake, except this one has two maraschino cherries stacked on top and it just so happens Ava’s milkshake is conveniently missing hers, go figure. She lets out a disbelieving laugh and carelessly slams her milkshake down on the table, rattling all of the other dishes. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that right?”

If the Thing is put off by her hostile attitude, it doesn’t show it. It simply says, “I do not understand human vernacular,” and pops out the flimsy plastic straw to tilt its glass up and take a large gulp of the ‘shake like an absolute fucking psychopath. 

Ava sits there, stunned. “You have some fucking nerve bringing me here. First, you show me my friends dying then you almost have me kill one of them—not to mention the constant shitty nightmares—and now you take me to a fucking 80s diner of all places like it’s a goddamn date?!”

The Thing keeps slurping and slurping until it empties half of the glass before finally putting the milkshake down. It cocks its head. “Do you want it to be?” Not-Ava asks, waggling its eyebrows and sporting a very unflattering milkshake mustache on its upper lip. 

“Ew, no.” 

Not-Ava shrugs. “Your loss. Definitely would have made my job easier.”

She feels the table strain under her grip. “Oh? And what exactly is your job? Reviving dead people only to violently possess them and cause them to hurt their friends?!”

Not-Ava’s tongue darts out to lick off the remnants of the milkshake mustache before making a small pleased sound. “I thought you might be more receptive here compared to our previous settings.” 

She wants to reach over and throw her entire glass of milkshake at its head. And then the plate with the burger. And maybe also the table afterwards. Ava leans back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you a demon?”

Not-Ava rolls its eyes. “Human standards of good and evil are so archaic. No fleshie, it is much more complex than that.” 

Ava grimaces. _Fleshie?_ “Who are you then?”

“Ojén.”

She blinks. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Not-Ava sighs and takes a big bite of its burger, meat juice squeezing out of the patty and dribbling down its chin. It doesn’t bother using a napkin to wipe it off before taking an even bigger bite and following it up with a handful of french fries.

Ava sits, frustrated. She runs a hand through her hair. “What are you?”

The Thing pays her no attention and happily continues munching on french fries. She’s about to reach over and snatch out the plate of burger and fries but Not-Ava pauses mid-bite. It stares at Ava and Ava stares back. The sight is almost comical, the Thing frozen with mouth wide open to take a bite of its burger and eyes blinking owlishly as it stares at Ava. 

“Wh—”

“Can you pass the mustard sauce?”

“Holy fucking shit!” She wants to rip her hair out. She must be experiencing a psychotic breakdown. There is no other explanation for this. Ava grabs the mustard bottle on her right and throws it at Not-Ava who catches it with a small “oof” and a gleeful grin like a child on Christmas morning. 

It hits the bottle against the table a few times before opening the burger. It pauses for a second, studying the burger before deciding to squeeze the mustard on top of the pile of fries instead. Ava blinks. The Thing then takes a handful of the mustard-drizzled fries and scoops them onto the burger before closing it.

What the fuck? 

She clears her head and tries again. “You’re inside the Halo.”

Ojén grunts in between bites of...the ghastly creation. “The Halo was made to contain me.” 

Ava hums disinterestedly despite it being the most interesting information she’s received in the past week. Really, who would have thought Adriel trapped some celestial being inside an old relic that was created _specifically_ for the Thing? “Like a genie in a bottle,” she concludes, trying to keep the growing interest out of her voice.

The burger-fry concoction drops onto the plate with a splat as Ojén fixes her with a scowl. “I am not some wish-granting goblin. I am Ojén, guardian of—” Its face drops, “was. I was a guardian,” It finishes, morose as It despondently slurps the milkshake. 

A guardian. Of what? Heaven? She peers at Ojén who’s now shoving fistfuls of french fries into its mouth. Unlikely. Ava mentally crosses that option out. Maybe Hell? There’s so many questions she wants to ask. Like how did it end up like this? And if this Thing _exists_ then why does it always show up wearing her skin? It must have its own, right?

She goes for a different angle, “Why me?”

Not-Ava drops the smushed fries, pressing its lips and feigning disinterest while it calmly examines a napkin with _too much_ interest.

Ava presses on, “Why did you choose to talk to me? Why not any of the other Warrior Nuns before me?”

Ojén gives a casual shrug, “They were dull.”

“Bullshit.”

Not-Ava leans in close, smirking, “What? You’re looking for someone to tell you that you’re special? Spending your entire life stuck in a bed not special enough for you?” 

Her nostrils flare. This is going absolutely nowhere. She doesn’t know how long she’s been here, but it has been fucking long enough. Time to speed up the process. “You know,” Ava tries to keep her voice light lest she give her hand away, “do you remember what you told me the last time we met?”

Not-Ava narrows its eyes at her, frowning in thought. “I said a few things.”

Ava nods. “Then let me refresh your memory. You said, ‘ _your mind is my mind’_ so I was thinking, the reverse must be true, right?”

The Thing’s eyes widen, but before it can do anything, Ava pushes forth, mentally taking a battering ram whatever barrier she finds to push and push and _push_ until she feels something give and maybe it’s her brain because now it feels like it's going to explode as ground gives out from under her, dropping her into an abyss where sounds and colors whirl around her making her dizzy. Dizzy. Blue. There’s a light. Blue light. _“—Ke’naç—”_ She touches it and immediately feels a shove that knocks the breath out of her lungs. She gasps. Air. There’s air rushing past her ears, loud, like a freight train. There’s sharp screeches, harsh guttural sounds breaking through, she feels the space she’s in getting smaller, smaller—a cage—and pain pain _pain_ until— _“When the day breaks, the shadow will rise to build columns of ash and blood forever creating an eternal shift.”_ Ava’s mind stumbles, she feels herself splitting in half, a tether loosening—there’s a sharp pain in her chest, searing her insides— _“Ava”_ —it’s burning, burning—her throat is on fire and she’s screaming and something’s breaking and—

There’s a blurry figure crouched over her, steadily telling her to _breathe, Ava,_ and she’s trying but she can’t, she can’t, because that was—that was— _“Breathe, Ava,”_ she focuses on the low, soothing voice, letting it guide her back to reality. Her short, shallow breaths start to come deeper, slowing down in intensity. She feels warm hands rubbing her back in comfort, she leans in further, burying her head in the space that feels like _home, home—this_ is where I belong _—_ and inhales, letting the soft scent of honeydew and vanilla calm her unsteady heart.

When she comes to, Beatrice is crouched in front of her, looking at her with worried eyes. Ava lets out a laugh that almost breaks into a sob. She clutches onto Beatrice’s arms like a lifeline and pulls herself up. She stumbles and Beatrice’s grip on her tightens. Ava huffs, leaning back on the stone ledge to catch her breath. She glances at Beatrice before swinging one leg over the edge, twisting her body around to face the water. Beatrice lets out a small sound of protest at her actions, but says nothing and slides into the space beside Ava. 

Her mind still feels like it’s being crushed, but Beatrice’s solid, steady presence grounds her. The river rushes under them, current slow and steady as it moves, reflecting moonlight. Beatrice sits beside her, patient and waiting, never pushing her to share. And maybe, she’s finally ready to. 

“Beatrice,” her voice cracks. Her throat is raw from all of the screaming and talking hurts, but it’s time she said something. Beatrice turns, looking at her with a soft expression. Even now, Ava can tell she’s trying to mask her worry, but it’s obvious that she’s rattled by what she saw. There’s a small cut on Beatrice’s cheekbone where an angry red and purple bruise blossoms beneath it. Ava wants to reach out and run her hands over it, but she doesn’t trust herself. Not after yesterday. Her hands shake in silent fury. At herself. At this thing that’s inside of her. She looks down, her eyes turning over her hands like they’re a curse. “Ever since I got these back, all they’ve done is destroy,” she whispers.

“Ava—”

She cuts her off. “Beatrice, I’m so sorry. I almost—yesterday was bad.” Ava takes a shaky breath. “I almost killed you and I barely stopped it in time. I can’t, I don’t—you have to take it out of me.” The weight is pressing down on her again, she has to get out, leave, get out, out—“ _Please._ Take it out of me, take it _out!”_ She breaks off into a sob and Beatrice pulls her in. She trembles, clutching Beatrice’s shirt tightly as she folds into the embrace with sobs racking her body. Beatrice softly rocks them back and forth, murmuring a litany of _“shh”_ and _“it’s okay, it’s okay,”_ as Ava finally releases all the pent up emotions from the past few days.

She stays buried in Beatrice’s embrace as the sky gets darker and crickets start chirping before her cries finally taper off into small sniffles. She tries to gather herself as much as possible before pulling back, mentally preparing herself for a hard conversation. “Bea, there’s something—” She cuts off, waiting for a sharp pain in her mind that never comes. Her mind is completely silent, the Thing—Ojén is nowhere to be found, having retreated back to who knows where. She slowly moves out of Beatrice’s space, but keeps her hand clutched to Beatrice’s and slowly intertwines their fingers. “There’s something inside the Halo. A being. And it’s been communicating with me in my dreams and that spar and now, just now it was with me.” 

Beatrice’s hand tightens in hers. Ava smiles gratefully, taking the small burst of courage and soldiers on, giving Beatrice the cliff notes’ version of everything that had happened in the past few days. She relays everything Ojén told her today and by the time Ava finishes recounting everything, she’s exhausted. After having cried out half of her weight in tears, she wants nothing more than to curl up in a ball and go to sleep. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Beatrice finally says. “We thought there might be something wrong, but we didn’t think—” Her voice breaks off, the tendons in her neck stand out as her jaw works tightly. There’s an overwhelming feeling of guilt that threatens to overtake Ava. She didn’t want the team to worry about her. She didn’t _deserve—_

Beatrice must sense what she's thinking because she immediately shakes her head. “No, no, Ava. I’m sorry for failing you. These past couple of weeks have just been hard for us all, we thought it was all just catching up to you. We should have known. _I_ should have realized that there was something more.”

Ava’s vision blurs, she tilts her head up, trying to keep the tears at bay. “No, Bea, I should have told you sooner. Maybe then it wouldn’t have gotten this bad. I just—I thought I was making it all up. I didn’t want to worry you guys. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“I’m sorry for letting it get this bad, Ava. For leaving you alone.”

“I’m thankful you did. I needed,” She swallows, “I think I needed to try and make sense of it on my own first.” 

Beatrice gives a small nod, shoulders slumping as her posture relaxes. Ava scans her for a moment before finally coming to a decision. She shifts her weight and leans back. Beatrice’s grip on her immediately tightens and Ava flashes her a tiny grin in response. She grabs her knapsack from the ground, rummaging through it before she victoriously holds up the scratched walkman from today. Ava fishes out a pair of earphones to plug into the adaptor before asking, “Wanna listen?” Beatrice gives her a curious look before taking the offered earphone and putting one in her ear while Ava sticks the other half in her own. 

She fumbles around with the walkman, trying to find the ‘play’ button. There’s a brief crackle of static as it turns on before a soft guitar melody filters through the tinny speakers. 

_Hello, is it me you’re looking for?_

Beatrice makes a small noise of surprise, “Lionel Richie?” 

Ava laughs before impatiently shushing her so they can both listen to the song. 

_Sometimes I feel like my heart will overflow_

Her throat tightens. Warmth travels up her cheeks as watches Beatrice relax, leaning back on one hand, eyes closed and face tilted towards the sky. Moonlight washes over the lines of her face, coloring her face and hair a pale blue interspersed with dancing shadows of soft yellows from the street lanterns. 

_‘Cause I wonder where you are_

_And I wonder what you do_

She takes Beatrice’s hand in her lap, shifting over until the space between them gets smaller and smaller while the warmth radiating off of Beatrice’s body gets stronger and stronger. She feels her insides buzzing when their thighs finally touch. Ava breathes, swaying into her side to drop her head down on Beatrice’s shoulder and letting the lyrics wash over her. 

_—let me start by saying_

_I love you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Go Your Own Way" - Fleetwood Mac  
> “Hello” - Lionel Richie  
> [Ava's Walkman](https://walkmancentral.com/products/wm-2)
> 
> Well, folks this chapter was an absolute beast to write, i think it’s actually the longest ch yet. It also didn’t help that I had three other fic ideas pop up in my head while writing it. But I hope u all enjoyed that, and hopefully the sweetness in this chapter balanced out all the angst from the last three chapters. 
> 
> I would love to hear from u so let me know what u thought of this chapter in the comments down below! Some questions got answered while new ones emerged hehe.
> 
> As always, if u think ive committed any crimes come yell at me on tumblr @analogoose.
> 
> see u all soon!


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